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LIVEEPOOL 



A FEW YEARS SINCE 









BY 



AN OLD STAGEE. 



SECOND EDITION. 



LIVERPOOL : 

ADAM HOLDEN, 48, CHUECH STREET. 

1869. 







u 









The Publisher has to thank the Proprietors of the Albion 
for the ready permission granted to him to reprint this Volume. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 



9'i 



Page 



Liverpool fifty years since. Goree warehouses. The 
docks. Extent of the town. Ships in dock. Ships for 
sea. Outward bound ... ... ... ... 1 

CHAPTER II. 

War. The old " Princess." The press-gang — their 
unpopularity — Jack's race for life ... ... ... 6 

CHAPTER in. 

Captain Colquitt. Convoys. Privateers. Dublin 
packets. The deserts of Cheshire ... ... ... 12 

CHAPTER IV. 

Volunteers. Captain Bolton. The Marquis of Lon- 
donderry. General Benson. General Fisher ... ... 18 

CHAPTER V. 

Prince William of Gloucester. The Prince of Wales. 
The Duke of Clarence. Scene at the Mayor's dinner ... 23 

CHAPTER VI. 

Old stagers — Dr. Currie, John Foster, Dr. Brandreth, 
Sir William Barton, John Bridge Aspinall, John Bolton 29 



a 



IV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Page 
Moses Benson. Fashionables. Military beaux. 

Major Brackenbury. Thomas Leyland. Pudsey Dawson 35 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Fletcher Raincock. James Clark. The Recorder 
non-suited. George Rowe. Jack Shaw. The old Cor- 
poration ... ... ... ... ... ... 41 

CHAPTER IX. 

Sir George Dunbar. Tom Dunbar. Thomas Wilson. 
Edward Houghton. Mr. Black's white wig. Roger 
Leigh ... ... ... ... ... ... 48 

CHAPTER X. 

Joseph Leigh. Shakspeare Tom. William Harper. 
Bamber Gascoigne ... ... ... ... 55 

CHAPTER XI. 

Society. Sets. Roscoe — how appreciated. Anecdote. 
Dr. Shepherd ... ... ... ... ... 62 

CHAPTER XII. 

Sir Joseph Birch. Arthur Heywood. Tom Lowndes. 
Colonel Nicholson. Rushton. Captain Crowe. Night 
Action. Peter Tyrer ... ... ... ... 70 

CHAPTER Xni. 

William James. Silvester Richmond. Anecdotes. 
Joseph Daltera. Puns. Jokes. Sermon ... ... 78 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Practical Jokes and Jokers. Committee of Taste — 
their doings and misdoings. Quarrel with Mr. Staniforth 
— how settled. Their Chairman. Improvement of the 
present age ... ... ... ... ... 85 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XV. 
The old tower in Water-street. Committee of Taste 



Page 



again — more of their pranks. William Wallace Cnrrie — 

his character and writings ... ... ... ... 92 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Sir John Gladstone — his character. Ottiwell Wood. 
Judge Littledale. General D'Aguilar. Devaynes, the 
conjurer ... ... ... ... ... ... 100 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Old watchmen — tricks played upon them. Pigtails. 
The last and very last of the pigtails. Hair powder. 
Barbers ruined. Marshal Blucher — preparing for the 
Battle of Leipsic ... ... ... ... ... 108 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The old Corporation — their exclusive spirit — their 
doings. Management of public affairs. Anecdotes. 
Corporation dinners — county guests. Honest John 

Watkins, and his defeat at Waterloo ... ... ... 117 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Clergy. Blair's sermons. The Rev. Thomas 
Kidd. * The Rev. Thomas Moss. Anecdotes. The 
Bottle and the Wood. Chat Moss ... ... ... 126 

CHAPTER XX. 

Rector Roughsedge. Anecdotes. The Bishop asto- 
nishing the Clergy. The Rector's one joke. St. 
George's Church. The Mayor's Procession. Maternal 
discipline. After Church. Lord-street. The Athenaeum 
steps ... ... ... ... ... ... 135 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Page 
Jonas. Mr. Pitt. The Duke. Archdeacon Brooks. 

The Rev, James Hamer. Dr. Hodgson — in Liverpool — 

in Oxford — his character, career, and brilliant talents ... 143 

CHAPTER XXH. 

An Election. Parties in the Town and Council. 
General Tarleton. Old freemen. General Gascoigne. 
Bamber Gascoigne. Conscience ... ... ... 150 

CHAPTER XXIH. 

Shops. Danson. Shower bath. The Liverpool 
Hunt. Peter Carter and his gray horse. Abraham 
Lowe, the huntsman. Cheshire Squires. Sir Peter 
Warburton. Sir Harry Mainwaring ... ... ... 160 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Old Coaches. Macadam. Coachmen. The Umpire. 
The Bang-up. Pleasures of travelling on the old roads. 
Hours kept by our grandfathers and grandmothers. 
Visiting. Sedan Chairs. Routs. Going out and going 
home ... ... ... ... ... ... 170 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Theatres — the managers — actors — singers. Elliston. 
Lord Nelson. George Bailey. Abolition of the Slave 
Trade. Liverpool ruined. Liverpool revived. Con- 
clusion ... ... ... ... ... ... 178 



PEEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 



In the year 1852, "Liverpool a Few Years Since" by 
" An Old Stager," was republished in " a more abiding 
form " than it had previously assumed in the columns 
of the Liverpool Albion. The little book sold off 
rapidly, notwithstanding its being somewhat expensive, 
as compared with the wonderfully cheap publications of 
the day, and it is now out of print. It has many a 
time and oft been suggested that a further and cheaper 
issue would be acceptable to the Liverpool public. The 
publisher has, therefore, assumed the responsibility of 
the present issue; and, learning that such was his 
intention, I have ventured to "preface" the original 
preface by a word or two in explanation of the cir- 
cumstances and surroundings under which the Author 
penned these sketches. 

It is scarcely imparting information, to make known 
the simple truth that the "Old Stager" in question was 
none other than the late Rev. James Aspinall, M.A. 



Vlll 



Oxon, at one time Incumbent of St. Michael's Church, 
and more recently officiating at St. Luke's, and after- 
wards transferred to the Crown Rectory of Althorpe in 
Lincolnshire, where he continued to reside until his 
death in 1861. The "Old Stager" was always a man 
of great activity of mind and body, and could never be 
idle. Every moment of his time was turned to some 
account; and thus the very remote sphere of his 
parochial and magisterial duties in Lincolnshire never 
induced the slightest dulness or discontent. With a 
Church, and a Chapel of Ease three or four miles off, 
to serve, and with a tolerably large parish to care for, 
the " Old Stager " was not without considerable clerical 
duty ; and, added to this, he most unwillingly under- 
took the responsibilities of the magisterial office. Not- 
withstanding the avocations thus indicated, time was 
always found for literary pursuits, for receiving and 
imparting knowledge, for refreshing and renewing his 
powers of mind, in order to the successful communica- 
tion, either by voice or pen, of his thoughts and ideas 
to his neighbours and to the general public. Amid 
the many written utterances of the " Old Stager's" ready 
and comprehensive mind, we must enumerate these 
notes upon men and things in our good old town, 
penned with very considerable pleasure to their writer, 
as being the jottings down of his own personal expe- 



IX 



riences and recollections of a place and of a people 
very deeply rooted in the affections of this true son of 
Liverpool. 

We well remember the bright and genial countenance 
of the "Old Stager," as he thought aloud upon his old 
and early associations. Liverpool was his home, as 
against all other homes. His father had been its chief 
magistrate so long ago as 1803. His sons, or some of 
them, had adopted it as their abiding place ; and thus, 
for several generations, this thriving community seemed 
to the "Old Stager" to smile upon him and upon his 
belongings, and as a consequence, not at all unnatural, 
the "Old Stager" felt a devotion to the town, and 
towards its inhabitants, which kept it and them ever in 
his grateful remembrance. 

C. A. 

Liverpool, January, 1869. 



PBEFACE. 

The original intention of the Author was to amuse 
the younger readers of the Albion, by dashing off a 
few sketches of "men and things," as he recollects 
them in Liverpool a few years since. For this purpose 
all that was worth telling, he thought, might be com- 
prised in about two papers, or chapters. The public, 
however, like hungry Oliver Twist, revelling on the 
thin workhouse gruel, flatteringly asked for "more"; 
and with this request he, not being of a nature akin to 
that of Mr. Bumble, has willingly complied, to the 
extent of his ability. Nor is this all for which the 
naughty public is to be held responsible. The chapters 
having been spun out to the length which they now 
occupy, greedy Oliver again cries out for " more," and 
demands that, instead of being left to die out, and be 
forgotten, as the ephemeral occupants of the columns 
of a newspaper, they shall be collected, and re-pub- 
lished in a more abiding form; and once more our 



Xll 



good nature triumphs over our prudence, and we com- 
ply. Under such circumstances, the writer of these 
sketches and reminiscences neither courts nor depre- 
cates criticism; his only object in perpetrating these 
"trifles light as air" was, he repeats, to set before the 
rising generation a picture of the " good " old town, 
at the commencement of the present century, and to 
show them how 'men and manners,' and customs and 
fashions, have changed since the times in which their 
grandfathers "ruled the roast," and were the heroes 
of the day. In working out this design, the Author 
has had neither dates nor memoranda to refer to, but 
has trusted entirely to his own powers of recollection, 
even as far back as the period when he reached the 
mature age of six years ! It is satisfactory, however, 
to add that, although he has painted wholly from 
memory, no one has yet disputed the accuracy of any 
of the characters which he has drawn, the events which 
he has related, or the anecdotes which he has revived. 
This may be fairly assumed as a testimony in favour 
of their correctness. For the rest, he has only once 
more to say, with Horace, "Non mens hie sermo," &c. ; 
that is, our reappearance is no fault of our own. 
Oliver Twist "has done it all," and must bear the 
blame. 

Liverpool, October, 1852. 



LIVEKPOOL A FEW YEAES SINCE, 







CHAPTER I. 

We are not great at statistics. We do not pretend to 
be accurate to an hour in dates, chronology, and so 
forth. We write, indeed, entirely from memory, and 
therefore may perhaps occasionally go wrong in fixing 
"the hour for the man, and the man for the hour," as 
we dot down a few of our recollections of the "good old 
town of Liverpool," from the time when we cast off our 
swaddling clothes, crept out of our cradle, opened our 
eyes, and began to exercise our reasoning powers on 
men and things as in those days they presented them- 
selves to our view. We think that our memory has a 
faint glimmering of the illuminations which took place 
when peace was made with Napoleon, in 1801. We 
also remember being called out of our bed to gaze at 
the terrible flames when the Goree warehouses were 
burnt down, and how we crept out of the house at day 
dawn, and rushed to see the blazing mass and all its 
tottering ruins in dangerous proximity. 

B 



2 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

It might only have happened yesterday, so vividly is 
the scene impressed upon our mind. But what was 
Liverpool in those days of early hours, pigtails, routs, 
and hair-powder ? 

The docks ended with George's at one extremity and 
the Queen's at the other. There was a battery near the 
latter and another near the former. Farther north was 
a large fort of some thirty guns, and halfway towards 
Bootle, a smaller one with nine. The town hardly on 
one side extended beyond Colquitt-street. The greater 
part of Upper Duke-street was unbuilt. Cornwallis- 
street, the large house which Mr. Morrall erected, the 
ground on which St. Michael's Church stands, all were 
fields at the time of which we speak. There was a 
picturesque-looking mill at the top of Duke-street, and 
behind Bodney-street we had a narrow lane, with a 
high bank overgrown with roses. Bussell-street, Sey- 
mour-street, and all beyond were still free from bricks. 
Lime-street was bounded by a field, in which many a 
time we watched rough lads chasing cocks on Shrove 
Tuesday for a prize, the competitors having their hands 
tied behind them, and catching at the victims with 
their mouths. Edge-hill, Everton, and Kirkdale were 
villages, as yet untouched by the huge Colossus which 
has since absorbed them and transmuted them into 
suburbs. What pilgrimages we children used to 
achieve to the second of these places, the very Mecca 
of our affections, that we might expend our small cash 
upon genuine Molly Bushel's toffee. And what won- 
derful tales we heard from our nurses and companions 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 3 

about Prince Kupert's Cottage, — only lately demolished 
by some modern Goth, under the plea of improvement ! 
And then we crept on to peep at the old beacon at San 
Domingo, thinking what a clever device it was to rouse 
and alarm the country, never dreaming in our young 
heads of telegraphs, and electric telegraphs, and other 
inventions, which have now superseded the rude make- 
shifts of our forefathers. And what a grand house we 
thought Mr. Harper's, at Everton, now turned into 
barracks. And Hope- street, now so central, then gave 
no hopes of existence. It was country altogether. At 
one end of it were two gentlemen's seats, inhabited by 
the families of Corrie and Thomas, and far removed 
from the smoke and bustle of the town. 

But go we back to the docks. There were no steamers 
in those days to tow out our vessels. The wind ruled 
supreme, without a rival. The consequence was, that 
when, after a long stretch of contrary winds, a change 
took place, and a favourable breeze set in, a whole fleet 
of ships would at once be hauled out of dock, and start 
upon their several voyages. It was a glorious spec- 
tacle. It was the delight of our younger days to be 
present on all such occasions. How we used to fly 
about, sometimes watching the dashing American ships 
as they left the King's and Queen's Docks, and some- 
times taking a peep at the coasters in the Salthouse 
Dock, or at the African traders in the Old Dock, since 
filled up, at the instigation of some goose anxious to 
emulate the fame of the man who set fire to the Tem- 
ple at Ephesus. This fatal blunder it was which first 



4 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

gave a wrong direction to our docks, stretching them 
out northwards and southwards in extenso, instead of 
centralising and keeping them together. But we must 
not moralise. We are at the dock side, or on the pier- 
head. The tide is rising, the wind is favourable, " The 
sea, the sea, the open sea," is the word with all. What 
bustle and confusion ! What making fast and casting 
off of ropes ! How the captains shout ! How the men 
swear ! How the dock-masters rush about ! What 
horrible "confusion worse confounded" seems to pre- 
vail ! And yet there is method in all this seeming 
madness. Order will presently come out of all this 
apparent chaos. The vessels pass through the dock- 
gates. Meat and bread are tossed on board of them at 
the last moment. Friends are bidding farewell ! Wives 
tremble and look pale. There is a tear in the stout- 
hearted sailor's eye as he waves his adieu. But, 
" Give way, give way there, my lads ; heave away, my 
hearties ! " The vessel clears the dock, passes through 
the gut, and then pauses for a brief space at the pier, 
while the sails are set and trimmed. Then comes the 
final word, " Cast off that rope ! " and many a time 
have we, at hearing it, tugged with our tiny hands 
until we have succeeded in effecting it, and then 
strutted away as proudly as if we had just won Water- 
loo or Trafalgar. And now the sails fill ; she moves, 
she starts, there is a cheer, " Off she goes ! " dashing 
the spray on either side of her as soon as ever she feels 
the breeze. And now all the river is alive. The heavy 
Baltic vessels are creeping away. The Americans, 






LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 5 

always the same, are cracking along with every stitch 
of canvas they can carry. The West Indiamen sail 
nobly along, like the very rulers of the ocean. There 
are the coasters, and the Irish traders, and packets, 
while the smart pilot-boat dashes along under easy sail, 
here, there, and everywhere almost at the same time. 
And so they go on, until, like a dissolving view, they 
are lost behind the Kock, and we retire from our post, 
with the determination to be there again when the 
same scene is repeated. 



CHAPTEK II. 



But the peace of which we spoke in our last chapter was 
nothing but a hollow and armed truce, which gave both 
parties time to breathe for a few months. England 
was suspicious. Napoleon was ambitious. The press 
galled him to the quick. At all events, " the dogs of 
war" were hardly tied up before they were again "let 
slip " ; and then into what a bustle, and what a fever of 
excitement, do we remember old Liverpool to have been 
plunged. What cautions and precautions we used to 
take, both by land and water. We had a venerable 
guard ship in the river, the "Princess," which we 
believe had originally been a Dutch man-of-war, and, 
if built to swim, was certainly never intended to sail. 
There she used to lie at her moorings, opposite the old 
George's Dock pier, lazily swinging backwards and for- 
wards, with the ebbing and flowing of the tide, and 
looking as if she had been built expressly for that very 
purpose and no other. Her very shadow seemed to grow 
into that part of the river on which she lay. But, be- 
sides her, we had generally some old-fashioned vessel of 
war, which had come round from Portsmouth or Ply- 
mouth to receive volunteers, or impressed men. A word 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 7 

about these last. Those who live in these "piping times 
of peace" have no idea of the means which were employ- 
ed in the days of which we are speaking, to man our 
vessels of war. The sailors in our merchant service 
had to run the gauntlet, as it were, for their liberty, 
from one end of the world to the other. A ship of 
war, falling in with a merchant vessel in any part of 
the globe, would unceremoniously take from her the 
best seamen, leaving her just hands enough to bring 
her home. As they approached the English shore, oar 
cruisers, hovering in all directions, would take their 
pick of the remainder. But the great terror of the 
sailor was the press-gang. Such was the dread in 
which this force was held by the blue-jackets, that they 
would often take to their boats on the other side of the 
Black Bock, that they might conceal themselves in 
Cheshire; and many a vessel had to be brought into 
port by a lot of riggers and carpenters, sent round by 
the owner for that purpose. And, truly, according to 
our reminiscences, the press-gang was, even to look at, 
something calculated to strike fear into a stout man's 
heart. They had what they called a " Bendezvous," in 
different parts of the town. There was one, we recol- 
lect, in Old Strand-street. From the upper window 
there was always a flag flying, to notify to volunteers 
what sort of business was transacted there. But look 
at the door, and at the people who are issuing from it. 
They are the Press-gang. At their head there was gene- 
rally a rakish, dissipated, but determined looking officer, 
in a very seedy uniform and shabby hat. And what fol- 



8 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

lowers ! Fierce, savage, stern, villainous-looking fellows 
were they, as ready to cut a throat as eat their breakfast. 
What an uproar their appearance always made in the 
streets ! The men scowled at them as they passed ; 
the women openly scoffed at them ; the children 
screamed, and hid themselves behind doors, or fled 
round the corners. And how rapidly the word was 
passed from mouth to mouth, that there were " hawks 
abroad," so as to give time to any poor sailor who had 
incautiously ventured from his place of concealment 
to return to it. But woe unto him if there were no 
warning voice to tell him of the coming danger; he 
was seized upon as if he were a common felon, deprived 
of his liberty, torn from his home, his friends, his 
parents, wife or children, hurried to the rendezvous- 
house, examined, passed, and sent on board the tender, 
like a negro to a slave-ship. And so it went on, until 
the floating prison was filled with captives, when the 
living cargo was sent round to one of the outports, and 
the prisoners were divided among the vessels of war 
which were in want of men. Persons of the present 
generation have certainly heard of the press-gang, but 
they never attempt to realise the horrors by which it 
was accompanied. Nay, the generality seem to us to 
hardly believe in its existence, but rather to classify 
it with Gulliver's Travels, Don Quixote, Robinson 
Crusoe, or the Heathen Mythology, But we can 
recollect its working. We have seen the strong man 
bent to tears, and reduced to woman's weakness by it. 
We have seen parents made, as it were, childless, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 9 

through its operation; the wife widowed, with a hus- 
band yet alive ; children orphaned by the forcible 
abduction of their fathers. And yet, there were many 
in those days, not only naval men, but statesmen and 
legislators, who venerated the press-gang as one of the 
pillars and institutions of the country. In those days, 
indeed! We much fear that, if even now we could 
look into the heart of hearts of many a veteran admiral 
and captain, we should find that they have in the 
event of a war, no other plan in their heads for man- 
ning the navy but a return to this dreadful and oppres- 
sive system. "We would, however, recommend those 
in whose department it lies to be devising some other 
scheme, as we are strongly impressed with the convic- 
tion that public opinion will not in these days tolerate, 
under any plea or excuse of necessity, such an infringe- 
ment upon the liberty of the subject. But we are not 
writing a political article, but only describing our old- 
world fashions. Pretty rows and riots, you may sup- 
pose, now and then occurred between the press-gang 
and the fighting part of the public ; and not a few do 
we remember to have witnessed in our younger days. 
On more than one occasion we have seen a rendezvous- 
house gutted and levelled to the ground. 

Sometimes the sailors and their friends would show 
fight, and, as the mob always joined them, the press- 
gang invariably got the worst of it in such battles. 
Sometimes, too, the press-gangers would " get into the 
wrong box," and "take the wrong sow by the ear," by 
seizing an American sailor or a carpenter, and then 



10 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

there was sure to be a squall. The bells from the 
ship-building yards would boom out their warning call 
in the latter case, and thousands would muster to set 
their companion at liberty. A press-gangman was 
occasionally tarred and feathered in those days, when 
caught alone. We remember, as if it were only yes- 
terday, walking down South Castle-street (it was Pool- 
lane then), with the Old Dock, where the" Custom-house 
now stands, before us. It was, for some reason or 
other, tolerably clear of ships at the time. "We well 
remember, however, that there was one large vessel, or 
hulk, somewhere about the middle. Before we tell 
what happened, we must observe that, attached to the 
Strand-street press-gang, there was one most extra 
piratical-looking scoundrel, named Jack Something-or- 
other. Perhaps, as is often the case, " they gave the 
devil more than his due"; but, if one-half of the things 
said against this Jack were true, he deserved to be far 
and away prince and potentate and prime minister in 
Madame Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors. Well, as 
aforesaid, the Old Dock was in front of us, when all at 
once we heard a noise behind us, which told us that the 
game was up, and the hounds well laid on and in full 
cry. 

At the same moment, Jack shot past us, like an 
arrow from a bow, while hundreds of men, women, and 
children, were howling, shouting, screaming, yelling, 
threatening, close behind him. Every street sent forth 
its crowd to intercept him. There was no turning 
until he reached the dock-quay, but there the carters 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 11 

and porters rushed forward to stop him. What was to 
be done ? How was he to escape ? The dock, as we 
said before, was in front, and there was the vessel in 
the middle. Without a moment's hesitation, the terri- 
fied wretch took the water, dived, like Kob Roy, to 
baffle his pursuers, and soon gained the deck of the 
hulk. Some talked of boarding her, and dragging him 
from his concealment; but the majority of the mob 
decided that justice was better than vengeance, and, 
satisfied with Jack's fright and ducking, concluded that 
although he was a bad one, he was game, and would 
make them more sport another time, and so dis- 
persed. 



12 



CHAPTER III. 



We spoke of the old guard ship, the "Princess," in 
our last chapter. Many and many a time have we 
walked on her deck, until we thought that we ourselves 
might grow into a Nelson, a St. Vincent, or a Colling- 
wood. Her captain, who used to take us on hoard with 
him, in the days of which we speak, was Colquitt, — 
Captain Colquitt, of course, when afloat, but, on shore, 
among his friends, and he had many, Sam Colquitt, 
glorious Sam, pleasant Sam, clever Sam, up to any- 
thing, equal to anything, with a never-failing amount 
of fun and frolic, and an untiring fund of conversation, 
generally instructive, always agreeable, a giver and 
taker of a joke, full of anecdote, and the best teller of 
a good story we ever met with. We like to dwell upon 
his name. Much of the happiness of our boyhood 
sprung from our acquaintance with him. Beyond him, 
we recollect but the name of one of the crowd of faces 
which we used to see in the "Princess," the purser's 
clerk, named Vardy, a tall, fine looking fellow, some 
six feet two in height. And where are all the rest of 
them ? How many survive ? And where, how, are 
those who do, supported ? Besides the " Princess," 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 13 

and the tubs of tenders which came round for the 
impressed men, we had occasionally a livelier and more 
interesting kind of craft in the Mersey. A dashing 
sloop of war would now and then look in, after a cruise 
in the Channel, and occasionally would act as convoy to 
any fleet of vessels bent upon a long voyage. It was 
interesting to see the start of one of these accumula- 
tions of ships, under the care of their watchful 
guardian. There they lay in the river, all prepared to 
make sail whenever she made the signal, with all sorts 
of noises and confusion going on among their crews. 
In the midst of them she was at anchor, with every- 
thing made snug on board, lying like a duck on the 
water, with silence and order prevailing from one end 
of her to the other. Spying glasses are turned towards 
her, but there is no appearance of hurry or anxiety. 
The wind chops round, and is favourable for outward- 
bound vessels. Still all is quiet and motionless in the 
man-of-war. We are not nautical, recollect, and only 
speak in landsman's phraseology. What we cannot 
accomplish we will not attempt. All eyes are now 
anxiously bent towards her, and the skippers of the 
merchantmen begin inwardly, and perhaps outwardly, 
some of them, to curse the caprice, or ignorance, or 
indolence of her captain ; but, all in good time, gentle- 
men. Let him alone, if you please, He knows what 
he is about. He is only doubting whether the change 
of wind will hold. At last he is satisfied, and look ! — 
a flash — a smoke — bang! It is the signal gun to 
make ready; another to weigh anchor — another to 



U LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

set sail — and away she goes, gracefully, like a hen 
followed by her chickens; or, to speak more appro- 
priately, like a sheep-dog marshalling the flock. Sailing 
in convoy was certainly all equality and fraternity, but 
there was no liberty. The fast-sailing vessels were 
compelled to hoist no more canvas than would enable 
their slow companions to keep up with them. It was 
like the bed of Procrustes applied to sea affairs. And 
what fun it was to watch the crowd of vessels as they 
rounded the narrow channel by the Kock ; such bump- 
ing and thumping, such fidgeting and signal-firing on 
the part of the guardian angel to check the fast ones, 
and stimulate the slow ones, and keep them all well 
together. 

Nor must we forget here to mention another class 
of vessels, which made a very remarkable and pro- 
minent feature of the days which we are describing. 
We speak of the privateer. Liverpool was famous for 
this kind of craft. The fastest sailing vessels were, of 
course, selected for this service; and, as the men 
shipped on board of them were safe, in virtue of the 
letter of marque, from impressment, the most dashing 
and daring of the sailors came out of their hiding 
holes to take service in them. On the day when such 
a vessel left the dock, the captain, or owner, generally 
gave a grand dinner to his friends, and it was a 
great treat to be of the party. While the good things 
were being discussed in the cabin, toasts given, 
speeches made, and all the rest of it, she continued to 
cruise in the river, with music playing, colours flying, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE, 15 

the centre of attraction and admiration, "the observed 
of all observers," as she dashed like a flying -fish 
through the water. And then the crew ? The captain 
was always some brave, daring man, who had fought 
his way to his position. The officers were selected for 
the same qualities ; and the men — what a reckless, 
dreadnought, dare-devil collection of human beings, 
half- disciplined, but yet ready to obey every order, the 
more desperate the better. Your true privateer' s-man 
was a sort of "half -horse, half-alligator, with a streak 
of lightning" in his composition, — something like a 
man-of-war's man, but much more like a pirate, — 
generally with a superabundance of whisker, as if he 
held, with Sampson, that his strength was in the quan- 
tity of his hair. And how they would cheer, and be 
cheered, as we passed any other vessel in the river ; 
and when the eating and drinking and speaking and 
toasting were over, and the boat was lowered, and the 
guests were in it, how they would cheer again, more 
lustily than ever, as the rope was cast off, and, as the 
landsmen were got rid of, put about their own vessel, 
with fortune and the world before them, and French 
West Indiamen and Spanish galleons in hope and 
prospect. Those were jolly days to some people, but 
we trust we may never see the like of them again. 
The dashing man-of-war, and the daring privateer, 
dazzled the eyes of the understanding, and kindled 
wild and fierce enthusiasm on all sides. The Park 
and Tower guns and the Extraordinary Gazette 
confirmed the madness, and kept up a constant fever 



16 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

of excitement. But count the cost. Lift up the 
veil, and peep at the hideous features of the demon of 
war. Look at the mouldering corruption beneath the 
whited sepulchre of glory! But no sermons, if you 
please. 

And there were the old Dublin packets in those 
days, before steam had turned sailor. If you took 
a passage in one of them, and had a fair wind, and 
were lucky, you might hope to arrive in Dublin some 
time; but if the wind were against you, then, as the 
old coachman said of the railway smash, " Where were 
you ?" You would be heard of eventually, when worn 
to a skeleton, and in a fit of indigestion from eating 
your shoe soles in the agony of starvation. And some 
of us used to get an annual voyage to Hilbre Island, 
an exploit which set us up as sailors for life. Occasion- 
ally visitors penetrated about as often to the one good 
house which was near the Magazines. The Old Priory 
at Birkenhead was then "alone in its glory." All 
Cheshire, indeed, was in those days a kind of Africa, 
inviting and daring the young Bruces and Mungo 
Parks of Liverpool to explore it. We considered it to 
abound in deserts and Great Saharas. To penetrate to 
Wallasey, or to Upton, was to reach Timbuctoo. Bid- 
ston and the Lighthouse were our Cairo and the 
Pyramids ; and as to Leasowe Castle, we cared not to 
approach it, under especial guardianship of so many 
fairies, ghosts, and hobgoblins was it supposed to 
be. These things sound like so many fables at the 
present day, when our steam-boats, bridging the river, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 17 

carry us across by thousands every hour. But in those 
times, an occasional ferry-boat was the only communi- 
cation between the Lancashire and Cheshire shores of 
the Mersey. Few loved to cross from the one to the 
other, except under the pressure of business or neces- 
sity. Many persons, indeed, going from Liverpool to 
Chester, would travel round by Warrington, rather than 
chance a rough passage across the river in a small 
dangerous-looking boat. But, nous avons change tout 
cela. The things which we have been telling only live 
in the memory of a very few old fellows like our- 
selves. 



18 



CHAPTEK IV. 



But when the war, at the beginning of the century, 
was renewed with Napoleon, the preparations against 
him were not confined to the water. We had not only 
our guardship in the river, but the town itself was 
stoutly garrisoned against any enemy. We had always 
several regiments of regular soldiers or militia quartered 
here. But, besides these, ! what drumming and fifing 
and bugling and trumpeting there used to be among the 
regiments of our own raising ; for old Liverpool did her 
duty well and nobly in those days of threatened invasion. 
Young and old, gentle and simple, high and lowly were 
all alike seized with a military fever and a patriotic glow, 
and hastened to don red coats and cocked hats, carry 
muskets, or wear swords by their sides. And some 
famous soldiers we had amongst us, and plenty of them. 
Let us see. There was Colonel Bolton's regiment, con- 
sisting of as fine and well- disciplined a body of men as 
ever mounted guard in St. James's or Buckingham 
palace. In what awe we used to stand of the tall, 
upright, somewhat prim, and starched old colonel, as, 
mounted on his favourite white charger, he marched, 
band playing, colours flying, at the head of his men, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE, 19 

round and round Mosslake-fields, looking, both lie and 
they, defiance, at all the world in general, and Napoleon, 
and Ney, and Soult, and Lannes, and Davoust, and 
Murat, and all the rest of the frog-eaters, in particular. 
And then there was the fine old major, called Joe 
Greaves among his familiars, who lived at the top of 
Mount Pleasant, and kept a glorious house, and wel- 
comed everybody, and was welcome everywhere. A 
fine fellow was the major as ever we set eyes upon, and 
he was the father of as fine a family as ever sprung up, 
like olive branches, round any man's table. He was 
always kind, affable, and good-natured, whenever we 
met him. Peace to his memory ! And Sir Thomas 
Brancker, quiet citizen as he now looks, used to wear, 
to us, a most formidable aspect, when an officer in 
Bolton's Invincibles. Occasionally he would act as 
adjutant to the regiment, and, if our memory does not 
fail us at this distance of time, we once saw him — we 
certainly saw some one achieve the feat — ride at a 
troublesome boy, who would intrude within the line of 
sentinels, and leap his horse clear over the head of the 
terrified urchin. We also recollect a Hurry* and an 
Aspinall, officers in this regiment. There was also 
Colonel Williams's regiment of volunteers, a fine body 
of men, and \ well ordered and officered. The colonel 
had seen some hard service, and heard real hostile bul- 
lets whistling abroad. He was a strict disciplinarian, 
and a good soldier. We need not attempt to describe 
him. He lived to so ripe an old age, and to the last 
took such an active part in our public affairs, that most 



20 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

of our readers must have his picture, in his white Russian 
ducks, fully impressed upon their memory. He was an 
ardent lover of his race and of his country, spared no 
labour in the cause of improvement and reform, and in 
earnestness, and sincerity, and integrity of purpose 
never was surpassed. Moreover, we had Colonel Earle's 
regiment of Fusiliers; a company of Artillery, com- 
manded by Major Brancker, the father of Sir Thomas; 
a Custom-house Corps ; a Rifle Corps, second to none 
in the country; and Major Faulkner's Light Horse, 
better mounted than any cavalry in the service. And 
the military infection spread so far that the very boys at 
the schools used to form themselves into regiments, 
and drum about the streets,, with their little colours 
streaming in their front. And what reviews there were 
on the North Shore, and sham fights ! And the water- 
side carts were all numbered, so as to be easily brought 
into use in case of an enemy appearing. Occasionally 
the soldiers were practised in them. Benches for 
seats were placed in them, and they would drive off as 
if for some distant place, to which a railway would now 
carry them like a flash of lightning. Once or twice 
there were sham alarms, raised in the night to try the 
activity and spirit of our volunteers ; and ! what 
rattling of artillery, galloping of horsemen, beating of 
drums, and blowing of trumpets aroused the affrighted 
women and children from their beds, to look at the 
crowds of soldiers rushing through the streets to the 
several places of mustering for which they were bound. 
One of the most distinguished officers quartered 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE: 21 

amongst us in those bustling old times was Colonel 
Stuart, now the Marquis of Londonderry. A strange 
man is this said old marquis reported to be, and funny 
stories are told of him as ambassador at Vienna, and 
in various matters, political and diplomatic. But, 
nevertheless, a daring and gallant soldier was he in his 
youth ; and, as a cavalry officer, in dash and skill, was 
reckoned, not only second, but almost equal, to Murat, 
the Marquis of Anglesea, and perhaps Jerome Buona- 
parte, whose desperate charges at Waterloo drew from 
his brother the exclamation, that if all had fought like 
him the day would have had a different issue. Well 
do we recollect Colonel Stuart, on his prancing Arabian 
horse, which he had brought with him from the Egyp- 
tian campaign ; and a noble pair they looked as they 
dashed along. There was a rumour at the time, let us 
hope an idle one, that this steed of Araby was begged 
from him by a royal duke, and subsequently passed 
into a hackney coach. And how well do we recollect 
the encampment which was formed one summer, some- 
where towards Litherland, and how the proud soldiers, 
living under tents, fancied that they were undergoing 
all the horrors and hardships of war in behalf of their 
beloved country. And what heroes we had in com- 
mand of this military district. There was old General 
Benson, whose quarters were in Islington, a little of a 
martinet, and more of a prig, with a large slice of the 
pedant in things warlike, — a regular old pig-tail, but 
reputed to be a good soldier. After him, we had a 
hero of another cut, figure, and appearance, General 



22 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

Fisher, whom it was glorious to behold. We will 
attempt to describe him. It was his custom to creep 
up Duke-street, where he was quartered, every morning 
before breakfast. He used to have on a pair of long, 
light blue pantaloons; slippers, down at the heels; a 
seedy coat, dear at three -halfpence for a scare-crow ; a 
cocked hat to match, with much more grease than 
nap on it — we all hated Nap in those days — and a 
little feather, about two inches high, just peeping above 
it. And then the figure of fun arrayed in these habili- 
ments. The general was a stout man, with rather a 
protuberant corporation. His cheeks bore the marks, 
it may be of many campaigns, but certainly of many 
vintages. He blushed port wine unceasingly. His 
nose, no small one, grew into something like a large 
bulbous root towards the extremity ; and he wore a 
pig-tail, huge in its dimensions, both as to length, 
breadth and thickness, even in those days of pig-tails. 
Such was the one-time champion of this district, as he 
might be seen creeping every morning through the 
streets, with his hands in his pantaloon pockets, not 
unlike an old pantaloon himself, and with a crowd of 
little boys admiring the war-like apparition, but strongly 
doubting whether it was St. George or the Dragon that 
stood before them. 



CHAPTER Y. 



We spoke, in our last chapter, of the false alarms by 
which the soldiers forming our garrison were once or 
twice called together in the night, to try their zeal and 
alacrity ; and we said how terribly alarmed were the 
women and children on such occasions. But we can, as 
truly as proudly, add that their fears did not extend to 
our brave and gallant volunteers. They rushed to their 
gathering spots, wild and eager for the coming danger, 
and, we verily believe, were sorely disappointed when 
they found that the actual opportunity had not arrived 
for teaching the enemy how Englishmen could fight for 
their country, their king, their altars, hearths, and 
homes. Let us, however, be thankful that we were never 
subjected to the horrors of invasion, but that the bold 
front of our champions kept it and them at a distance. 
The worst of our military fever was, that; in imitation 
of the bad practice of real soldiers at that day, it led to 
several duels. One of them ended fatally, a member of 
one of the most respectable families in the town having 
fallen by the hand of another, with whom he had always 
previously been on the most intimate terms* It was 
supposed at the time that this sad affair was encouraged 



24 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

by some who should have made every exertion and used 
every effort to have prevented it, but did not. 

We have already spoken of several of the general 
officers who commanded in this district at the time we 
speak of. There was one, however, who will occupy a 
larger space in our canvas than we can afford to give to 
any other. When our military enthusiasm was at its 
height, Prince William Frederick of Gloucester came 
down to take the command. It has always been said 
that " Liverpool loves a lord," and there is some truth in 
the sarcasm. You may fancy, then, into what a fever of 
loyalty we were all thrown, young as well as old, by the 
presence of a prince of the blood royal amongst us, the 
veritable nephew of "the good old king," George the 
Third. And then how that fever grew and inflamed into 
actual white heat when the Duke of Gloucester, the king's 
brother and the father of the prince, arrived on a visit 
to his son. We remember him as if it were but yester- 
day; a fine, benevolent-looking old man, who was all 
smiles and kindness as he spoke to you. The prince him- 
self was a tall, handsome, noble looking young man, not 
too clever, as some of his intimates whispered, as they 
profanely called him " Silly Billy," the name having 
been originally fastened upon him by his royal cousin, 
subsequently George the Fourth, of splendid and dissi- 
pated memory. But what of that ? We did not want 
him to set the Mersey on fire, but to fight if fighting 
were to become necessary. And ! what gaieties, what 
parties, what festivities, what flirtations, we had in 
honour of his arrival and residence amongst us. 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEABS SINCE. 25 

Beauty was beauty in those days, and so the prince 
thought, and so did the train of gallant and glorious 
staff-officers who accompanied him. There was the 

magnificent Mrs. , and the pretty Mrs. , and 

the clever Mrs. , and the splendid-looking Miss 

. How other hearts beat, perhaps with jealousy, 

perhaps with spite, as the prince, at most of the gay 
parties, generally devoted himself, more or less, to one 
or other of these Lancashire witches. Occasionally, 
however, a fit of formality came over him, and then 
nothing could be so stupid as to have the honour 
of meeting him. The duke, his father, had not married 
a bit of German silver, but had followed the bent of 
his inclinations and united himself to an English lady 
of great beauty. This led to the passing of the Eoyal 
Marriage Act. To annoy the prince, under these 
circumstances, his cousins used to raise a question 
occasionally whether he should be called Highness or 
Eoyal Highness, although there was no doubt that the 
latter was his title. This made him ever and anon 
tenacious of the amount of honour and respect to be paid 
to him, and when the fit was upon him, he would push 
etiquette to the extreme, and keep the whole company 
standing in his presence, just as another prince does 
sometimes at the present day. But when he did relax, 
he could be a delightful companion. He possessed pro- 
digious strength, and was very fond of displaying it, at 
those times when he forgot his stiffness and starch. 
There was, however, one sad interruption to the worship 
and adoration with which he had hitherto been sur- 



26 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

rounded in Liverpool. The Prince of Wales (George the 
Fourth) and the Duke of Clarence (the sailor king) paid 
a visit to "the good old town." As the stars twinkle not 
before the moon, and the moon herself pales before the 
brighter beams of the sun, so certain of our tuft-hunters 
here forgot the respect which was due and which they 
had long paid to the prince, in their anxiety to bow down 
and render homage to the new and passing visitors. We 
are not going to recount all the follies of the occasion. 
How the Duke of Clarence pushed a milk-pail from a 
poor girl's head, in Water- street, and then astonished 
her with a guinea for her loss, and so forth. We shall 
hasten at once to a scene which took place at the Town 
Hall. A magnificent banquet was given there by the 
mayor of the time being. The Prince of Wales, the 
Duke of Clarence, Prince William Frederick of Glou- 
cester, the Earls of Derby and Sefton, with a crowd of 
military officers, were present. After dinner the usual 
toasts were proposed ; then the Prince of Wales and the 
Duke of Clarence, each with three times three. At 
last it was Prince William's turn, when, under the 
influence of some demon of mischief, the mayor, instead 
of proposing his health, as usual, with all his titles and 
all the honours, foolishly consulted the Prince of Wales 
and the Duke of Clarence on the subject, asking in what 
form he should give the toast, and whether he should 
say Highness or Eoyal Highness. The answer of the 
Prince of Wales was said to be, " Certainly not Eoyal 
Highness, and without the honours," while the Duke 
of Clarence more bluntly replied, "D him, don't 



LIVEBPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 27 

give him at all." The mayor then rose and simply 
proposed, " The commander-in-chief of the district, 
Prince William Frederick of Gloucester." It was 
drunk in solemn silence. The company all looked 
grave, as feeling that, under the influence of a 
higher idolatry, a gross insult had been offered to the 
late god of Liverpool adoration. Fierce glances were 
exchanged between the staff-officers and the other 
military men present. The prince himself writhed 
under the stroke, like a wounded tiger smarting under 
the lance of the hunter. Fire and brimstone and the 
devil himself flashed from his eyes, but he kept his seat. 
Presently the fearful and appalling silence was broken 
by the voice of the mayor, calling out, as the next toast, 
"The lord-lieutenant of the county, with three times 
three," the three times three, omitted at the name 
of the commander-in-chief, being revived with that 
of the next toast. A thunderbolt falling into the 
midst of the party could not have caused more astonish- 
ment and excitement. There could be no mistake now. 
The insult was meant to be an insult, and nothing but 
an open, prominent, and most insulting insult. The 
words had hardly passed from the lips of the mayor, 
when Prince William, glancing a signal to his staff, 
who had their eyes fixed upon him, rose from his seat 
and left the room, followed not only by them, but by 
the whole of the military officers of his command who 
were present, leaving the table almost deserted, the 
mayor gaping in amazement, and the royal cousins 
astounded at the spirit which they had evoked, more, 



28 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

perhaps, in mischief than in wanton insolence. However 
that may have been, from that day forth there was an 
uncomfortable feeling between the people of Liverpool 
and Prince William. It is only just to the rest of the 
corporation and to the gentry of the place to state, that 
to a man they felt strongly that an unwarrantable insult 
had been offered to him. He was, we believe, persuaded 
of this, but he never could be cordial again. If he 
forgave, he could not forget, the slight and mortifi- 
cation to which he had been so publicly exposed. 



29 




CHAPTEE VI. 



We have already said that, in the days of which we are 
speaking, the Cheshire side of the Mersey, now bridged 
to us by steam, was a terra incognita to the general 
inhabitants of Liverpool. Almost as little was known 
of Aigburth, Childwall, Knotty Ash, Walton, West 
Derby, and so forth. Our fashionables were then satis- 
fied to live in their comfortable town residences, without 
looking upon a country house, and garden, and hot- 
house, as necessary to their existence. And we question 
whether they were not as happy as, we are certain they 
were more sociable and hospitable than, their more 
refined and degenerate children. We had not so many 
sets, cliques, and coteries. Men were more sincere 
than flashy in those times, and their entertainments 
more solid than showy. But we must not omit to give 
a " local habitation and a name'* to some of our old 
leaders. The Hollinsheads lived then, and for many a 
day after, in the big family house near the canal. 
Some few respectable families lingered in Oldhall- street, 
to which the venerable Mrs. Linacre, who lived through 
so many generations, stuck to the last. Mr. Drinkwater, 
the father of Sir George, inhabited a large house in 



30 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

Water-street. Jonas Bold lived splendidly at the lower 
end of Redcross-street. The market, at that period, 
was held round St. George's church, and chiefly in the 
space then contracted by a row of houses standing 
between it and the Crescent, in the rear of which stood 
a narrow, winding street, called Castle Ditch, communi- 
cating with Lord-street, then very narrow, and with no 
pretensions to attract admiration or even notice from 
the casual passenger, although the shops in it were 
always among the best in the town. In Church-street 
lived the old and respectable family of the Cases, now 
represented by Mr. J. D. Case, formerly a member of 
our town council, and at present a resident in Cheshire. 
His father, George Case, was for many years the leader 
of the tory party in the ancient town council, and was, 
without exception, the best chairman of a public 
meeting whom we ever met with. Clayton-square was 
a strong resort of our leading and substantial merchants. 
Many a happy day have we spent in what was then the 
splendid mansion of the Rodie family. Kind, magni- 
ficent, and munificent in their hospitalities, but now, 
alas, without a representative of even the name sur- 
viving. Dr. Currie, so celebrated in his day, and so 
celebrated yet, lived in Basnett- street. 

Bold-street had its Tobins, Aspinalls, Dawsons, &c. 
That kind-hearted man, Rector Renshaw, lived here in 
a corner house, with its door openiDg upon Newington- 
bridge. A little farther, on the opposite side, was the 
house of the famous John Foster, the most influential, 
as he assuredly was the cleverest, man of his day ; the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 31 

father of the generation who have lived and died 
amongst us, abused, every one of them, for their name, 
but admitted, all and each, to have been gifted men in 
their several callings and professions. Opposite to the 
house of Eector Kenshaw was that of Harry Park, as 
we familiarly called him, the Abernethy or Astley 
Cooper of Liverpool ; as a surgeon, we believe, second 
to no man of his day. At the very next door lived 
Dr. Brandreth, of whose eminence, or pre-eminence, as 
a physician, it is impossible to speak too highly. In 
all our wanderings over, and sojournings in, different 
parts of the world, we never remember to have met 
with a medical man whose standing was so thoroughly 
ascertained, admitted, and appreciated. And his posi- 
tion was as elevated in the social as in the medical 
world. There was no appeal against the fiats which 
Fashion issued from her seat in Bold-street. We now 
come to Slater-street, then only partially built upon. 
Here lived the Myers family, and here resided Mr. 
Tobin — at a much later period, Sir John. 

In Seel- street was Mr. Perry, the first dentist of his 
day and locality ; and next door to him lived the tre- 
mendous Mrs. Oates, the best instructress of small 
children in the rudiments of English whom the world 
has ever seen. She had the knack of measuring baby 
capacity, and of drawing out all that it contained, helped 
thereto, doubtless, by a concentrated essence of birch- 
rod -look which she constantly wore in school-hours, 
and which had "no mistake" written upon it in large 
letters. At all events, her name was. celebrated at that 



32 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

day in all our public schools, as the best grounder and 
trainer of the young idea from whom they ever received 
recruits. But now we are in Duke-street, one of the 
most fashionable streets in the town at that remote 
period, and for some years afterwards. Here lived Mr. 
Whitehouse, and Mr. Peter Ellames. A little higher 
up resided a glorious old soul, Mr., afterwards Sir 
William Barton, as hearty a true Briton as ever walked 
on shoe-leather, and who had many experiences to tell 
of the West Indies in general, and Barbadoes in par- 
ticular ; and many also were the jokes tossed off at his 
expense. There used to be a nigger song quoted 
against him, extemporised by the black poets, it was 
said, on some occasion when he had lost a horse-race 
in Barbadoes. Some of the jingling rhymes we recol- 
lect ran thus : 

" Massa Barton, Massa Barton, we are sorry for your loss ; 
But when you run again you must get a better oss ! " 

And then, as they rushed away at his supposed angry 
approach, came — 

" Bun boys, run, run for your life, 
For here comes Massa Barton with his stick and knife." 

At a later period, when Sir William was mayor, a very 
laughable occurrence took place at his own table. A 
gentleman, rising to propose his worship's health, thus 
commenced his speech, "Addressing myself to you, 
sir," &c, but it so happened that Sir William, who was 
no enemy to a jolly full bottle, or two if you like, was, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 33 

by this time, in a tolerably muddy, misty, and oblivious 
state of mind, having no tangible recollections at the 
moment, save and except of his Barbadian experiences, 
where "you sir" was the term of contempt used by 
the master to the slave. Up jumped his worship, 
his eyes sparkling with wine and wrath, and with 
much hiccuping, exclaimed, " You sir, you sir, good 
heavens, you sir, that I should have lived to be 
called you, sir ! " Then down he bumped, looking like 
Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, rolled all into one, but con- 
tinuing to start up and interjectionally to shout, 
"You sir ! " until he fell asleep and slipped under the 
table. Nobody, however, laughed more heartily the 
next morning at the scene than did the mayor himself, 
who had returned from Barbadoes to Duke-street. 

A few doors from Barton lived John Bridge Aspinall, 
a man much esteemed by all in his day, princely 
in his hospitalities, and with a heart and hand open 
to every call of charity. Then came Leather, Naylor, 
Black, Penkett, and a crowd of solid and substantial 
men, much looked up to and regarded at that time. 
But whose noble mansion have we here? Built by 
one of the Lake family, it was subsequently, for many 
years, the residence of a townsman whose name was 
identified with Liverpool, and who, comparatively 
speaking, but lately departed from amongst us. We 
talk of John Bolton, a man who worked his own way up 
from poverty to riches, and then lived in the most 
magnificent way, and in so becoming a manner that 
he might have been born to the magnificence in which 

D 



34 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

he lived. No one knew the value of silence better than 
Mr. Bolton. He had not received much education, 
but he saved appearances by making it an invariable 
rule never to open his mouth on a subject he did not 
understand. But we must stop to-day in the catalogue 
of our worthies. It may sound to some of our young 
readers like a dry chronicle of names. But never 
mind them. There are still some old stagers, like our- 
selves, left, and they will be delighted with this flight 
back to the men and things of their youthful days. 
Like veterans, we still love the clash of arms, and to 
fight our battles over again; and we much mistake if 
Liverpool were not at least as remarkable then for its 
guiding and leading spirits as it is now. 



35 



CHAPTER VII. 



A little higher up than Colonel Bolton's, but on the 
same side of Duke-street, stood the noble palace man- 
sion of Moses Benson, one of the merchant princes of 
the old times of which we are speaking, with its gar- 
dens and pleasure-grounds, bounded on one side by 
Cornwallis-street, and on the other by Kent-street, and 
extending backwards to St. James-street. In Duke- 
street also lived his son, Ralph Benson, one of the 
pleasantest and most agreeable men we ever met with, 
but somewhat, indeed, too much of a Lothario. After 
his father's death he resided at Lutwyche, in Shrop- 
shire, became connected with the turf, and represented 
Stafford in several parliaments. His wife, Mrs. Ralph 
Benson, was an Irish lady, of good family, — a Ross 
Lewin, we believe, — a charming person, handsome, and 
accomplished, and gave delightful parties, where all the 
wits and fashionables of the day used to assemble. 
And here we must say that the beaux of those times 
were beaux indeed. There are none such to be met 
with at the Wellington-rooms now, or seen at the win- 
dows of the Palatine Club. The Littledales, Hamil- 
tons, Duncans, Dawsons, Lakes, &c, of that generation, 



36 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

— where are they now ? — were then a list of fine young 
fellows. And all the parties were so set off by the red 
jackets and blue jackets of our brave defenders, who 
made strange havoc among the ladies' hearts. Among 
the staff-officers who figured at them all, how well we 
remember the names and faces of Moultrie, Cox, Oisted, 
Higgins, and a host of others. And let us not forget 
the naval aid -de -camp of the Duke of Gloucester, 
Captain Browne, whose fine manly bearing and noble 
person must still be impressed upon the memories of 
many of our older readers. He was a true specimen of 
the British sailor, deeply respected by all who knew 
him, as well by landsmen as in naval circles. A gene- 
ration later, if we may take such a jump, we had, 
among the staff- officers quartered here, Bainbrigge, 
now a general, and one of the ablest officers in the 
service, and one of the cleverest men out of it. There 
was Peddie also, a delightful man among those with 
whom he was intimate. Nor must we forget William, 
we should say Major William, Brackenbury, a charming 
fellow, as the ladies said, and a rattling, pleasant, 
agreeable companion, as all admitted, the life and 
charm of every party, equal to a good song, and fore- 
most in the dance. But what miracles does time work ! 
Major Brackenbury, and his charger, and his dashing 
uniform, and his waving plume left Liverpool, and we 
lost sight of him for a long season. Years elapsed, 
when we went on a visit to a friend, who lived in a 
remote village in a far off corner of the country. One 
day two strangers were announced. They were a 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 37 

deputation from some missionary society, and had 
come to invite our host to attend a meeting to he 
held that evening at the village schoolroom. They 
were grave looking persons ; hair comhed down, Mack 
coats, white ties, and all the rest of it. As they 
entered, we were sure that we had seen the coun- 
tenance of one of them hefore. We looked at him, 
and he looked at us. The recognition was mutual, 
and at the same instant. "By Jove, Brackenhury, , ' 

said we. "Ah, ! " exclaimed he, not less warmly, 

hut less profanely; and in an instant, after a hearty 
hand-shaking, we went hack at rattling railway pace 
to the old times, the old people, and the old memories, 
to the "bewilderment of hoth of our friends, hut clearly 
to the utter horror of his grave companion. But we 
could not stop till we had it all out, nor till then 
could we proceed to business. He died soon after- 
wards. Poor fellow ! he was a good soldier in his 
soldier days. And his closing career was that of a 
good Christian. Peace to his memory ! And when 
we go, may those who survive us be able to say the 
same of us. 

[But to return to our story. In Duke-street, 
from which he subsequently removed to Walton 
hall, at that time likewise lived Thomas Leyland, the 
eminent banker, who, from small beginnings, worked 
his way, by energy, industry, and perseverance, to 
the possession of immense wealth. He was a man 
of amazing shrewdness, sagacity, and prudence. When 
the north countryman was asked for the receipt of his 



/ 



38 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

ale, which was always good, he answered, " There's 
just a way of doing it, man." And so it was with 
Mr. Leyland. He had "just the way of doing things." 
We will not compare him to the animals which are 
said "to see the wind," hut, hy some intuition, 
instinct, or presentiment, call it what you will, he 
seemed always to have a warning of any coming storm 
in the money market, and trimmed and steered the 
ship, and took in sail accordingly. " He was a fine- 
looking man, with what some thought a stern and 
forbidding, but what we should call a firm and decided 
look. We remember him with favour and gratitude. 
We received many civilities, and not a few substantial 
kindnesses, from him in his day. We omitted to state 
that what is now the Waterloo hotel, at the bottom 
of Kanelagh-street, was then the mansion of the 
Staniforth family. The son, Samuel, lived to be an 
old man amongst us, and was once the mayor of 
Liverpool, and afterwards sunk down into being the 
stamp distributor of the district. He was a gentle- 
manly kind of person in society, but of a strangely 
austere and forbidding aspect, the most vinegar-visaged 
man we ever beheld. And the index was a correct 
representative of the inner man. When the election 
poet wrote of him " Sulky Sam Staniforth," he drew 
his character in those three words. By his marriage 
with a most estimable lady, he was closely connected 
with the Case, Littledale, and Bolton families. His 
son came in for the great bulk of Colonel Bolton's 
wealth, to the exclusion of his own relations ; happily 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 39 

one of the rare instances in which a north countryman 
forgets his own blood in the disposal of his property. 

We now approach Colquitt- street, in which resided that 
shrewd, plodding merchant, Gilbert Henderson, the 
father of our respected and able recorder. Here, also, 
lived Thomas Parr, who afterwards retired into Shrop- 
shire. His house was disposed of by a tontine, and, 
at a later day, became the Koyal Institution, from 
which so many youths have gone forth to encounter 
the storms or pluck the honours of the world. Here, 
likewise, lived that true-hearted man of the old school, 
Peter Whitfield Brancker, one of the worthiest among 
the worthies of the days we write of. He was one who 
eschewed anything like nonsense, and was highly 
gifted with common sense. What he said he meant, 
and what he did he did with all his heart and soul. 
Few thought that he had so much kindness beneath his 
somewhat blunt and bluff bearing ; and many called him 
selfish, when he laid up for his family what others 
threw away upon vanity and ostentation. We always 
looked upon him as one of the best men of the day ; 
and, although he was a silent man in general company, 
he was far before most of our merchant princes, in 
reading and intellectual attainments. In Eodney- street, 
then only partially built upon, lived Mr. Leicester, 
and also that "fine old English gentleman," Pudsey 
Dawson, who was the delight of our boyhood, as we 
listened to his powers of talking, and watched, with 
amazement, his capabilities for taking snuff. He was 
the father of, we may say, besides his other sons, a 



40 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

race of heroes. William, who was in the Royal Navy, 
distinguished himself greatly in. the East Indies, by 
the capture, after a desperate action, of a French 
frigate, which had long been an annoyance and a thorn 
in the side of our trade in that quarter. Another fell, 
gloriously, "in Spain. Charles, a lamb in society, a 
lion in battle, was killed at Waterloo. If our memory 
holds good, both of these last mentioned were then in 
the 52nd, a crack regiment in the famous fighting 
brigade of those gunpowder times. Noble old Pudsey 
Dawson ! How he would talk by the hour, of wars and 
rumours of wars, to the circle which would gather 
round him at the Athenaeum, until, as he turned from 
one to another, the whole ring in which he moved 
might be tracked by the overflow of his snuff-box. 
And what a horror he had of Napoleon and Frenchmen 
and everything French. It was well for them, as he 
used to say, that he was not at Blucher's elbow when 
he entered Paris, it being his firm belief that the earth 
would never be quiet, until that city of trouble and 
confusion was blotted from its face. But Liverpool 
society could not point to a man of whom it was 
prouder, or one more respected, esteemed, or honoured 
than this same Pudsey Dawson. All men liked him, 
and we did not make an exception. 



41 



CHAPTEE YIIL 



In Eodney-street, likewise, lived Fletcher Eaincock, 
one of the most remarkable characters of his day. He 
had few equals in a legal capacity, and no superiors 
in literary attainments. He had a most gluttonous 
appetite for hooks, and read everything, old and new. 
He was a regular "curiosity shop" in the variety of his 
knowledge, and could produce all sorts of odds and 
ends at a moment's notice, from all sorts of ancient 
authors, unknown to and never heard of by other 
people. This made him a most agreeable companion, 
his conversational powers being tremendous, and set 
off, rather than impaired, by a spice of originality and 
eccentricity, just enough to draw a line between him 
and the common herd of ordinary and every-day people 
by whom he was surrounded. Like Yorick, "he would 
set the table in a roar," by the combined wit and 
wisdom which he had ever at command. And, while 
speaking of lawyers, let us digress for a moment to 
mention another old giant of those times. We allude 
to Mr. Hargreaves, who was for some years the 
Eecorder of Liverpool, a deep and profound lawyer, 
haud ulli veterum virtute secundus. He was succeeded 



42 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

by James Clarke, who lived to a much later date 
amongst us. Poor Clarke ! We never thought him 
crushed down by the weight of legal lore which he 
carried. But he was a man given to books, and had 
learned much from them. A pleasant man in a party 
too, he was, abounding in anecdote and the passing 
stories of the day. And, on one point, we must admit 
that he was unmatched. We never met with any one 
who possessed more shrewdness and knowledge of the 
world. He had thoroughly studied the volume of man 
as well as printed books, and we often point to his 
career as a proof of the usefulness of this knowledge. 
He had a remarkable coolness and calmness about his 
character, but we did once see him put into a regular 
"fix," in his own court, by an obstreperous juryman, 
who would have a will of his own. A huge sailor and 
a small boy were being tried for stealing an immense 
piece of cable. The sailor threw it all upon the boy, 
and the Kecorder, believing him, was charging the jury 
to the same effect, when one of them rising, and hitch- 
ing up his trousers, commenced, "But, Mr. Kecorder !" 
This was too much. Mr. Kecorder, electrified with 
indignation at being so interrupted, looked his best 
thunderbolts at the remonstrant, who still, however, 
kept sturdily on his legs, muttering protests against 
the opinion of the bench. The spectators became 
excited and amused at such an unusual scene, and a 
titter went round the court. This only added fuel to 
the fire, and Mr. Kecorder made another attempt to 



LIVERPOOL A FEW FEARS SINGE. 43 

silence his persevering assailant. " I tell you," he 
exclaimed, " that from the evidence, the boy must have 
been the culprit who carried off the cable ; the law says 
so, and I say so." But the obdurate juryman had not 
yet done. He instantly answered, " But, Mr. Eecorder, 
I do not know what you and the law may tell me, but 
common sense tells me that that boy could not even 
lift that piece of cable from the ground, much less run 
away with it." This was a poser with a vengeance. 
It was a new and original view of the case, which set 
all evidence at naught. The titter in the court grew 
into a regular burst of laughter, which nothing could 
check. The poor Eecorder was fully nonplused and 
nonsuited, and the jury acquitted the boy without a 
moment's hesitation. 

And here, if we may descend from barristers to 
solicitors, let us render a tribute of respect to the 
memory of a fine old fellow, a practitioner in the latter 
branch of the legal profession. We speak of George 
Eowe, of whom we knew much, and nothing but what 
was admirable. He was a warm friend and a delightful 
companion. He loved the good things of this world, 
but he liked others to enjoy them with him. He was 
fond of society, and in his own house kept, we always 
thought, the best table in Liverpool. But we were 
going to speak of him as a lawyer. We cannot fathom 
the exact depth of his reading in Coke, Blackstone, 
and so forth. We leave his head, to speak of his heart. 
And in this point of view, we can mention several 



44 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

things which will prove that, unless lawyers in general 
are greatly maligned, George Howe was a miracle of a 
lawyer, in allowing the milk of human kindness to flow 
so largely through his nature. We recollect an instance 
in which he offended and lost an old and valuable 
client, because he refused to make a will for him which 
he thought unjust towards the gentleman's own family 
and relations. And more instances than one could we 
tell of in which he worked, and included even expensive 
papers, documents, and stamps, all "free gratis for 
nothing," for poor and deserving parties who had solicited 
his help in the expectation that they were to pay for it 
in the usual terms. There may be others in the pro- 
fession, and we trust there are many, equally liberal 
and kind-hearted. But knowing it of him, we tell it, 
and we add further, that, in our voyage of life, we 
never met a kinder, a warmer, and a truer friend. We 
honoured him in life, and in death we treasure his name 
and memory. 

In Queen-square lived another family, called, with a 
different spelling, Roe, and of most respectable standing 
were they, among the substantial old stagers of the 
town. In the same locality resided Colonel Graham, 
and also another party upon whom we must bestow a 
somewhat longer notice. This was Mr. John Shaw, 
commonly called Jack Shaw, a man of immense wealth 
and intense vulgarity. Never was there such a sacrifice 
to the golden calf as that betrayed, not simply by the 
elevation of such a person to the highest municipal 
honours, and the civic chair, but in giving him an 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 45 

influence which he held undisturbed for years. He 
was positively known by the soubriquet of " the King 
of the Council," or " King Jack." His grammar was 
truly a la Malaprop. On one occasion we recollect 
hearing him, when wishing to be fine, call the old 
constables his "mermaids," instead of his "myr- 
midons." At another time, when he was sitting on 
the bench, the Town- Clerk observed to him that a sen- 
tence which he was about to pass would be contrary to 
the Act of Parliament, when the magisterial despot 

silenced his functionary by retorting, " D your 

Acts of Parliament. What cares I for your Acts of 
Parliament?" He had a habit also of invariably pro- 
nouncing the word "digest" as if it were "disgust." 
One day, at his own table, he had a waggish friend of 
his, Carruthers, dining with him. The fish was not 
very good, as Jack always dealt in the cheapest market. 
Carruthers rather turned up his nose at the savour, but 
his host fell to with the greatest vigour, observing, 

" Oh, I can disgust anything." " Yes, by , that 

you can," exclaimed C, with a roaring laugh. 
Presently, however, Jack paid him off, as he thought 
with compound interest. " Carruthers, my boy, how 
many shirts a week do you wear?" said he. "One 
every day, and sometimes more," was the answer. 
" Why, man," was Jack's rejoinder, " what a dirty hide 
you must have. One serves me a fortnight." Such 
were the municipal pleasantries of the municipal 
monarch of his day. We believe that it was the same 
worthy potentate who once threatened to " slat an ink- 



46 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

stand at the head of a Jew, who was a witness before 
him, if he did not tell him what his Christian name 
was," and he would have said the same thing to a 
Turk or a Hindoo. 

We believe it was the same Jack who once com- 
plained to the late Egerton Smith that he had not 
reported something that he had said fairly, when that 
respected editor facetiously replied, that "if he ever 
grumbled again, he would report everything he uttered 
on the bench or elsewhere verbatim et literatim, exactly 
as he delivered it." But our readers must not suppose 
that, because, by some strange metamorphosis more 
wonderful than any related by Ovid, this awful Jack 
was translated into a Town- Councilman, we had, there- 
fore, a whole council of such men. Far from it. Jack 
was a pelican in the wilderness, a thing out of place, 
an accidental nuisance, how and why admitted into 
that body, it is impossible now even to guess. As a 
whole, and with this exception, the old Town Council 
of Liverpool consisted of some of the first and most 
respectable and most respected men in the place. Its 
fault was, that it was too exclusive ; like the late Whig 
cabinet, too much of a family affair. It did its work 
well in its day ; we may, indeed, say remarkably well, 
considering its irresponsibility. But a change was 
demanded with the changing times. We sometimes 
question, however, whether we have improved the class 
of men. Then it was selection, without election ; now 
it is too often election, without selection. But the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 47 

present system has this great advantage ; a black sheep 
is not a perpetuity. "We can get rid of him at the end 
of his three years, and that is something, and a great 
something. 



48 



CHAPTER IX. 

In Mount Pleasant lived, in those good old times, Sir 
George Dunbar, the representative of an ancient race 
in Scotland, and a model gentleman, both in appearance 
and manners. He was originally in business in Liver- 
pool; but when the family title descended to him, the 
pride of ancestry was stronger than the pride of "the 
merchant • prince " within him, and he retired from 
vulgar trade, cut sugar hogsheads and rum puncheons, 
and was no more seen on the "Rialto," discussing 
markets and inquiring the price of barilla and pearl 
ashes. It was a false move on the part of the worthy 
baronet. No rank would have been sullied by remain- 
ing in the firm of which he was the head. His junior 
partners, Ewart and Rutson, became not only eminent, 
but pre-eminent, amongst our giants of that day, and 
achieved a name and reputation known to the ends of 
the earth, and are still well represented amongst us. 
The son of the latter is a large landowner in Yorkshire, 
universally respected; while, of the family of the for- 
mer, one son, William, has long been in parliament, 
and another, Joseph Christopher, was a candidate for 
Liverpool at the recent general election. But the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 49 

Dunbars have altogether vanished from the scene. The 
best of them that we knew, poor Tom Dunbar, was one 
of the handsomest and cleverest, and certainly the most 
brilliant and the wittiest, of mankind. He had abilities for 
anything, for everything, but he never cultivated them ; 
at all events, he never used them. He wanted either 
application or resolution. It might be the pride of his 
father in another shape. He was a lounger where he 
might have been a leader. He was satisfied to flash 
and dazzle as a meteor in society, while men much less 
intellectually endowed, but of a more persevering and 
plodding spirit, passed over him, and became persons 
of mark, position, and distinction. It was mortifying 
to his friends to see him ever with the game in his 
hands, yet always throwing up the cards. His active 
life amounted to just nil ; but his sayings, his polished 
witticisms, his delightful retorts, his splendid and pun- 
gent repartees, in English, Greek, and Latin, would fill 
volumes. They are still treasured by the survivors of 
the circle of which he was the life and joy and pride, 
and brought out every now and then, with a sadly smiling 
countenance, as one of Dunbar's gems ; just as on 
high and grand days we go to the oldest bin for a bottle 
of the best vintage. And everything was original with 
him. He never borrowed nor repeated. It was fresh 
and fresh with him, as often as you met him. 

But we must pass on. Kussell-street and Clarence- 
street had no existence in those days. In St. Anne- 
street resided the old families of Bridge, Fisher, and 
Kogers. Here also lived Mr. Blundell, the clergyman ; 

E 



60 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

Mr. Smith, at a later period of Fulwood Lodge; and 
Mr. Haywood, the father of the eminent cotton-broker 
of that name. Close to St. Anne's Church was the 
house of a celebrated character amongst us, both then 
and long afterwards. We speak of Mr. Thomas "Wil- 
son, profanely called Tommy Wilson, the dancing- 
master, by his wicked pupils. A good fellow was 
Tommy, although a strict disciplinarian in "teaching 
the young idea," not "how. to shoot," but how to turn 
out its toes and go through the positions. But, unfor- 
tunately, Mr. Wilson grew too ambitious, and, instead 
of contenting himself with fiddling for boys and girls 
to dance to, would preside over orchestras and concerts, 
and cater for the amusement of the public, by which we 
fear he did not grow too rich. He was a worthy, warm- 
hearted man in his way, and somewhat of an original, 
and withal possessing the good opinion of all who 
knew him. Nor must we forget to state that in St. 
Anne- street likewise lived Mr. Kutson, of whom we 
have already spoken. His partner, Mr. Ewart, resided 
in Birchfield. In Soho-street was the house of Mr. 
Butler, somewhat too convivial in his habits, but one 
of the most thorough gentlemen we ever met with. 
His son is the present Mr. Butler Cole, of Cote and 
Kirkland hall, both in this county. In Kose-place, 
then a fashionable suburb, more country than town, 
resided Mr. Lake, who subsequently retired to Birken- 
head Priory, and afterwards to Castle Godwyn, in 
Gloucestershire. He was the father of the Captain 
Lake, whose wound from a Minie rifle, at Weedon, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 51 

was recently mentioned in the newspapers. A little 
further out towards the green fields, now all streets, 
we come to the mansion of a nohle old worthy of those 
times, Edward Houghton, the father of Eichard and 
Kaymond of " that ilk," so well known and so much 
respected amongst us. How well we remember his 
amiable and benevolent countenance ! He had a kind 
word for everybody, and was prompt to do kind acts 
too. And what a staunch sportsman he was, seldom 
missing his bird, and devoted to his work. And then 
what a famous breed of pointers he had, jet black 
and all black. How they would set and back set. 
How they would range the stubble and never flush a 
partridge nor run a hare. How they would "down 
charge " at the sound of a gun, without a word being 
said. We wonder whether any of the descendants 
of this celebrated race of dogs are yet in being. 

But, before we pass beyond the boundaries of the 
old borough, let us hark back a little, and enumerate 
a few more of the ancient worthies, or " standards," 
of the town whom we have omitted in the foregoing 
catalogue. There were the Boardman, Harding, 
Bancroft, Downward, and Lorimer families. Nor 
must we forget to mention that admiration of our 
boyhood, William Peatt Litt. He always seemed to 
us to be the original of the lines, 

" Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, 
And a jolly old soul was he." 

A munificent, magnificent, generous, hospitable soul 



52 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

indeed, was Mr. Litt. There are few like him now. 
And there were several families of the Byroms. 
The Naylors and Bournes, the grandfathers of the 
present generation of those names, lived in Duke- 
street, and were among the most respectable and 
respected of our citizens. There, also, lived Mr. 
Patrick Black, a fine old stager even at the time we 
speak of. We can see him yet before us. Picture 
to yourselves a kind and venerable man, in a cloak 
enveloping his whole body from head to foot, a gold- 
headed cane in his hand, and a wig. Oh ! such a wig, a 
regular wig of wigs, as white as the whitest of hair- 
powder could make it, of a transcendental cauliflower 
appearance, and in size far beyond the proportions of 
the largest Sunday wig assigned to Dr. Johnson, in the 
pictures which have come down to us. We recollect 
once, when about some six years old, getting into an 
awful scrape about this said venerable gentleman and 
his megatherion wig. We were walking with a small 
friend of our own age and inches, when suddenly the 
apparition of Mr. Patrick Black, arrayed as we have 
described him, came in sight. Our admiration, as 
usual, burst forth in the far from respectful and 
almost profane exclamation, " There goes old Black 
with his white wig." Hardly were the words out of 
our mouth, when a gentle tap came upon our shoulders, 

and a soft whisper fell upon our ear, " Master , 

if it would be any particular pleasure to you, I will ask 
my father to wear a black wig in future." We looked 
round, and, ! horror of horrors ! were we not thrown 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 53 

into real agonies, and almost hysterics, when, in the 
person uttering this mild remonstrance, we recognised 
the daughter of the old gentleman whose wig we had 
been blaspheming ? We stammered and hammered at 
an excuse, and then ran for our life. And for many a 
long day we disappeared round the nearest corner as 
quickly as possible if any of the Black family came in 
sight of us in our walks. The joke, however, got wind, 
and it was long before our martyrdom and persecution 
ceased, even in our own circle, where "Old Black" with 
his white wig was thrown into our teeth whenever we 
were inclined to be obstreperous and naughty. Neither 
must we forget the name of Brian Smith, who lived in 
Bold-street, and whose very look was a picture of benevo- 
lence. John Leigh, too, the attorney, a man of gravity 
and silence, but with a very intelligent countenance, 
lived then in Basnett-street. As we shall have occasion 
to mention his name in a future chapter, we shall merely 
Allude to it here. And there was the firm of M'lver, 
M'Viccar, and M'Corquodale, never mentioned by us 
youngsters without the addition of the awfully bad joke 
about the old woman, a mythological old woman doubt- 
less, going into their office and asking if they were the 
house of M' Viper, M' Adder, and M' Crocodile. 

But who is this " Goliath of Gath " whom we see 
approaching, and whom, if he had lived in these days 
and been a poor man, Barnum would certainly have 
bagged, and caravaned, and made a fortune out of him 
as a giant ? It is Koger Leigh, as kind-hearted a man 
as ever lived, with an amiable and benevolent smile 



54 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

ever playing upon and irradiating his huge countenance. 
He was a general favourite, as he walked amongst us, 
like Gulliver among the Lilliputians. And what a 
character he was at an election ! His activity and energy 
in such times were tremendous. But Roger was rather 
a paradox in his politics. A Eoman Catholic in his 
religion, he was what was then called " a Church and 
King man " to the back bone ; a tory of tories, in days 
when tories were not the faint-hearted chickens which 
we now see them. Poor old Roger Leigh ! Like Sir 
Abel Handy, he had always some scheme on the anvil 
for getting rich, but we fear that, like the rest of us, he 
sometimes took two steps backward for one forward. 
The stone of Sisyphus is the type of most of us. But, 
rich or poor, successful or otherwise, peace to his 
memory! We never heard harm of him. He had 
everybody's good word. We wish that the world con- 
tained many like him. 

v 



55 



CHAPTEK X. 



He who undertakes to be the chronicler of Liverpool 
society at the commencement, and in the early years, of 
the present century must not forget to mention the old 
and respectable families of Gildart and Golightly. And 
who is this easy, good-tempered soul, whom the mind's 
eye now brings before us ? It is Mr. William Bigg, 
profanely called " Billy Bigg" by his familiars. And 
who comes next? Henry Clay, frank, jovial, light- 
hearted fellow, once Mayor of Liverpool, and a generous 
and hospitable chief-magistrate he made. And there 
goes that veritable ancient, Arthur Onslow, collector of 
customs, with a name which testifies that family in- 
terest was as strong in those days as it is in these. 
And now, if we go on 'Change, surely this is an original 
whom we see before us. His name is Brown, but among 
the gentlemen "on the flags" he is better known as 
"Muckle John." A shrewd, sagacious man of business 
is he, as ever lived ; and many were the stories which 
used to be told of his sayings and doings and some- 
what sharp practice in his money transactions. " Mr. 
So-and-so will be my security to you," said some gentle- 
man one day to him. " Aye, mon, but who will be the 
security for the security ? " was his retort. In after life 



56 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

we became acquainted with the celebrated "Jemmy 
Woods," the Gloucester banker, and it always struck 
us that he strongly resembled " Muckle John " in many 
features of his character, especially in crescit amor 
nummi quantum ipsa pecunia crescit. The cash book 
seemed to be father and mother, wife and child, com- 
fort and consolation, joy and glory of both of them. 
But we had reached Great Nelson-street North before 
we turned back again into the town. A little further 
on, in Everton, lived Mr. Thomas Hinde, second to 
none here in his day. The representatives of his family 
are now to be found at Lancaster. At Everton, like- 
wise, resided Mr. Shaw, the father of Mr. Thomas 
Shaw; also one of the Earle family; another brother 
lived then, and long afterwards, at Spekelands. At 
St. Domingo was the mansion of Mr. Sparling. The 
country-houses beyond that were "few and far between. ,, 
Close to the old London -road, about two miles from 
Liverpool, lived Mr. Falkner, the Major of the Liverpool 
Light Horse. A mile or two further out was Oak-hill, 
the seat of Mr. Joseph Leigh, one of the most pushing 
and rich of our enterprising merchants, and as fine, 
handsome a looking fellow as you may meet with in a 
ten days' journey. The march of intellect did not 
advance per railway in those times; and Mr. Leigh, 
although marvellously at home in arithmetic, compound 
addition, the rule of three, multiplication and so forth, 
had not much studied history, poetics, and the other 
graces, and, as by many they were then thought, exotics 
of education. Consequently endless were the stories 



LIVEBPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 57 

told of his blunders and mistakes in the literary line 
when he crept up in life, and thought it necessary to 
come out as a Maecenas. For instance, it was said that, 
in ordering his library, he directed that so many feet 
of books should be placed in it, and that, when asked 
if he would have them bound in Eussia, he answered 
promptly, "No, in England, to be sure!" On one 
occasion, a waggish bookseller asserted that he called at 
his shop and told him that, as Shakespeare was con- 
sidered to be such a first-rate writer, he must send him 
immediately any more works which he might publish ; 
while, on another, after surveying shelf after shelf covered 
with books having Tom. for Vol. inscribed upon their 
backs, he exclaimed, in the highest degree of admiration, 
"Upon my word, that Tom must have been a mon- 
strous clever fellow." We, of course, receive such 
accounts cum grano sails, or, to speak in more mercan- 
tile phrase, with a little discount, not as absolutely 
fabulous, but as somewhat highly coloured. Moreover, 
we have no doubt that, in addition to his own blunders, 
Mr. Leigh was made to bear all "the tales of our 
grandfathers" in previous circulation. He subsequently 
removed to Belmont, a splendid place in Cheshire, 
when the proud squires of that proud county took up 
the ball, and coined and circulated all sorts of odd tales 
about him. In their visits, one with another, they 
passed from house to house for a week at least, and 
bringing with them an immense retinue of horses and 
servants. And it was a standing joke for years among 
them, that, when first Mr Leigh settled in that part of 



58 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

the country, he told some of them who called upon him 
that he should he happy to see them at tea occasionally. 
But as we have also heard this story told .against the 
first Mr. France, of Bostock Hall, who also passed from 
Liverpool into Cheshire, it may not have been origin- 
ally levelled against Mr. Leigh. Another laugh, how- 
ever, against him was, that some village wag, who 
probably had not been valued at his own price by some 
of the new inmates of Belmont, inscribed over the 
lodge gates, where they were found one morning, the 
following doggrels : — ■ 

" In this house there is no beer, 
In this park there are no deer. 
And why ? Joe Leigh lives here." 

We must, however, recollect that the Cheshire 
squires had then, and probably have yet, a strong 
aversion to Liverpool and all its works. Looking at 
their mortgages, — for in those days a Cheshire squire 
without mortgages would have been a rara avis indeed, 
— they had a sort of prophetic feeling that the merchant- 
princes of Liverpool were destined to eat them up, like 
another Canaan ; in other words, to buy the acres of 
all the wiseacres in the county, and so exterminate 
the original squirearchy. Hinc illce lachrymce. Hence, 
when they lost the game, they took their revenge in 
bad jokes which kill nobody, and, indeed, are very 
harmless affairs, if, as the French proverb has it, 
" II rit bien qui rit le dernier" he has the best of 
the laugh who has the last of it. Mr. Leigh had a 



■LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 59 

brother, a very quiet and respectable man. He lived 
in Duke-street at one time, and afterwards at Roby 
Hall. 

But, in speaking of Everton just now, we forgot to 
mention William Harper, one of the wealthiest men 
of his day, a blunt, downright sort of person, a 
member of the old corporation, and mayor in his 
turn. He also had made an encroachment on the 
pride, and trod on the toes, of the Cheshire squires, 
by buying an estate at Davenham, near Northwich. 
He had three daughters, co-heiresses, whom, when 
at school, he never forgot to toast at his own table 
as " The lasses of Ashbourn." Some people thought 
this a good joke, and it was even alluded to in some 
of the election squibs of the day. But we always 
admired the old man for it, and looked upon it as an 
excellent trait in his character. One of them married 
Mr. Hoskins, or, as he afterwards became, Mr. Hoskins 
Harper. Another was Mrs. Formby. The third was 
united to Dr. Brandreth, or, as he was called in his 
father's lifetime, Dr. Joseph Brandreth, who, in the 
second generation, has so well maintained the medical 
distinction achieved by the first. 

But to return from this digression ; not far from 
Oak-hill was Highfield, now the seat of that prince 
of good fellows, Thomas Littledale, Esq., the chief 
magistrate of Liverpool, but then belonging to, and 
the residence of, the Parke family. A fine, glorious 
jovial old man do we recollect Mr. Parke. He had 
three sons, whom we remember ; Mr. Thomas Parke, 



60 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

Major Parke, and a third, of world-wide fame and 
celebrity, Baron Parke, of whom " the gude old town " 
cannot be too proud, as first and foremost among 
the legal ornaments of the judicial bench. 

Not far from Highfield was Ashfield House, the 
mansion of John Clarke, a brother of the Kecorder, 
and himself a member of the Town Council, and 
once Mayor of Liverpool. He was a peculiarly 
good-looking little man, always well-dressed, rode 
a good horse, and drove a neat carriage. Further 
on we arrived at Broad Green, belonging to the 
Staniforth family. Mr. Ashton, whose sons and 
descendants still reside in the neighbourhood, lived 
at Woolton, honoured and respected by all the circle 
of his friends and acquaintance. At Childwall was 
the noble mansion of the Gascoignes, which has 
now passed into the hands of the Marquis of Salisbury, 
who married the only daughter and heiress of the 
last possessor, Bamber Gascoigne. He was at one 
time, as his ancestors had been before him, the mem- 
ber for Liverpool. His retired habits, however, and 
his literary tastes, interfered with his bringing any 
very great portion of activity to his duties, and on 
one occasion, having thereby been brought into colli- 
sion with some of the merchant-princes amongst his 
constituents, they renounced their allegiance to him, 
but still, not altogether repudiating the family name, 
they selected as his successor, his younger brother, 
the famous General Gascoigne, who, however, was a 
very inferior person to Bamber. But we shall come 



LIVEBPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 61 

to him presently. At Childwall, likewise resided 
Thomas Clarke, whose two brothers we have already 
mentioned; a man whose good-nature, generosity, and 
nobleness of soul have been seldom equalled, never 
surpassed. Mr. Clarke had also a splendid place, 
Peplow Hall, in Shropshire, now, we rather think, 
belonging to Lord Hill. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Liverpool society, like that of every other place, has 
always been divided into sets; how formed, by what myste- 
rious line separated into divisions and sub-divisions, and 
sections, and cliques and coteries, we can no more tell 
than we can explain the causes at work to produce the 
eddies of the tide. There they are, and we must take 
them as we find them. It is so, always was so, and 
ever will be so. But, in enumerating the old stagers 
of half-a-century ago, more or less, we have passed 
them in review, " promiscuously, as it were," without 
undertaking the invidious task of cataloguing the par- 
ticular set to which they individually belonged. 
Generally speaking, however, they may be placed 
under three heads : the fashionable set, the wealthy 
and commercial set, and the Corporation set. But many 
of those who have been named belonged to all of these 
sets. There was, moreover, a literary set ; but it was 
numerically very small. Its three principal ornaments 
were Dr. Currie, Dr. Shepherd and Mr. Roscoe. The 
latter, who became so world famous at once, and so 
deservedly, was a remarkable and striking instance of 
the proverbially small estimation in which prophets 
are generally held in their own country. It is true that, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 63 

by a momentary enthusiasm, he was sent to parliament 
represent his native town. But it was transient and 
evanescent, and as speedily burnt out as a fire of 
stubble. Liverpool never appreciated Koscoe as the rest 
of the world appreciate him, nor does it now appreciate 
him as the rest of the world appreciates him, in spite of 
its feeble talk about his immortal memory, and its weak 
and mocking attempts to support Koscoe Clubs. In any 
other place, his name would have been what Shake- 
speare's is to Stratford, "a household word," familiar in 
the mouth of age, manhood and childhood. But it is 
not so here, and with him. He has a small and de- 
creasing circle of friends, who remember him when 
alive, and still treasure every word of wisdom which 
they ever heard from his lips. He has a somewhat 
wider circle of admirers, who read his works, and find 
a giant's hand impressed upon them all. And there 
are others who profess to read and admire, because 
they have learned that no badge of ignorance would be 
thought greater in the literary world than a confession 
that they have not studied the writings of Boscoe. 

But, when all these are- counted, we still remain con- 
vinced that the general public of Liverpool, beginning 
from the topmost pinnacle of its society, possess a mar- 
vellously small knowledge, and as small an appre- 
ciation, of the literary remains of this illustrious man. 
We can give a remarkable instance of this, of which 
probably the generality of our readers have never 
heard. Not many years ago a Liverpool lady, whose 
literary attainments are of the highest order, was, when 



64 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

in London, asked to meet a very select party com- 
bining some of the most intellectual, as well as the 
most aristocratic, persons of the west end of the metro- 
polis. She was delighted with the company, and they 
were equally delighted with her, with her stores of 
information, her lively conversation, her brilliant wit, 
her sparkling repartee, the tout ensemble which made 
her the lion, or, speaking of a lady, the star of the 
day. But, at last, unhappily for the moment, the 
name of Eoscoe was mentioned, and she became 
astonished, confused, and silent as she heard him 
spoken of with an awe, an admiration, and a reverence, 
due and paid only to minds of the most magnificent 
calibre. " Take any shape but that," she might have 
said, "and I can talk with the best here present." On 
this topic, however, she was mute, and her perplexity 
and annoyance were dreadfully increased when, at every 
pause, the rest of the party seemed to wait for her 
opinions and sentiments. " He was a Lancashire 
man. He was a Liverpool man. She must have 
visited, as the Mahomedan does his Mecca, with the 
steps of a pilgrim, every locality hallowed and conse- 
crated by his presence and footsteps. She must have 
treasured and embalmed in her memory anecdotes of 
his sayings and doings which had not yet appeared in 
print; stories of his habits, and customs, and daily 
life, which enthusiasm had cherished and tradition 
handed down." But they laboured under a huge 
delusion. She was no Boswell, to read from her diary 
the hourly records of the life of another Dr. Johnson. 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 65 

In fact, she was ignorant on this point, and knew 
nothing of the man of whom they were speaking. 

It may he explained. She was of an ultra- Tory 
family, with large estates in the West Indies, and of 
which past generations had run passenger ships for 
involuntary black emigrants from Africa to the other 
side of the Atlantic. In her home circle, then, as a 
child, a girl, she had always heard Eoscoe spoken of, 
not as a great philanthropist, not as a first-rate scholar, 
not as a writer whose hooks will he read and referred 
to until the world's last blaze, hut as a busy-body, as a 
meddler, as a mischief-monger, whose wish and object 
were to injure and destroy the town and trade of Liver- 
pool. We may not wonder then that her amazement 
was great, and her perplexity not less, when now, for 
the first time in her life, she heard what was the public 
estimation in which her world-celebrated and world- 
appreciated townsman was held. The mists of local 
prejudice were at once scattered from before her eyes. 
She honestly and candidly took refuge in a confession 
of the truth, and so dissipated the half sneer, half smile 
of wonder which was ' gathering on the lips of some of 
the company. We recollect the circumstance well, 
and were not more amused than pleased with the 
avidity with which the very next day our fair friend 
provided herself with everything written by or of 
Eoscoe, and with the keenness of appetite with which 
she set to work to devour them as speedily as possible. 
He is now one of the Dii Majores in her intellectual 
Pantheon. But we also mentioned Dr. Shepherd, 

F 



66 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

clarum et venerabile nomen, as one of the literary giants 
of our locality some years since. He was indeed, and 
no mistake about it. 

We have frequently in our time heard him compared 
by turns with Theodore Hook and Sidney Smith. But 
he was, in our opinion, infinitely superior to either 
of those luminaries in the Metropolitan world of wit ; 
and, had he shone in the same sky, our belief is that 
their lesser rays would have paled before his greater 
brilliancy, as the stars go out and tapers grow dull 
and dim when the sun is up, and dazzling us with 
his glory. Dr. Shepherd was a thorough and solid 
scholar ; an advantage not possessed by either of his 
rivals. Hook's education was notoriously deficient. 
Smith had not accumulated equal stores of learning 
from his. Hook, when not running riot as a roue, 
a debauchee, mad with dissipation, and intoxicated 
with the flattery of the circle in which he moved, 
never soared to anything beyond the character of a 
first class Jack Pudding. His practical jokes were 
those of a boy blackguard. His jokes uttered were 
almost invariably of the coarsest ' kind, which derived 
a momentary zest and relish, not from their own 
intrinsic value, but from the political excitement 
which then prevailed, and which they were generally 
intended to subserve. Friendship has indeed sought, 
in more than one biography, to rescue him from such 
a character. But friendship would have been more 
friendly, so to speak, if it would have allowed him 



LIVEBPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 67 

to be forgotten. There is no advocate so eloquent 
as oblivion for some reputations. With Sidney Smith, 
again, it was " Figaro here, Figaro there, Figaro 
everywhere." His whole life was one long, enduring 
universal jest. 

He never seems to have been serious. In all his 
conversations, and most of his writings, puns and 
points, often not soaring to sparkling antithesis or 
dazzling epigram, beset you, like "man traps and 
spring guns," at every turn in the road, until you 
become weary and exhausted. Man cannot always 
be laughing. A perpetual joker must sometimes 
excite a yawn. But we never found Dr. Shepherd 
guilty on this head, and in this fashion. He was 
witty in season, but not out of season. He could 
be the man of business. He could bring gravity to 
the discussion of grave affairs, and treat things serious 
with seriousness. But when in the social circle, and 
amongst his friends, it was the season for relaxing, 
then came forth the mighty stream of his wit, rolling 
like another Mississippi, in its glorious, resistless 
course, and sweeping all before it, and as remarkable 
for its point, polish, and elegance, as for its strength 
and poignancy. There were few who could keep the 
saddle in the intellectual tournament with him. 
Before that terrible lance, adversary after adversary 
went down, like chaff before the wind. Nor do we 
recollect any greater treat than a perusal of the cor- 
respondence with which the Doctor used, from time 



68 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

to time, to season our newspaper reading. Upon 
whatever controversy he entered, he was sure to come 
off victorious. The very opposite to Mrs. Chick, 
whose maxim was to carry everything by "an effort," 
he never seemed to make any effort at all. It was 
the very ease with which he crushed the most daring 
of his foes which was so annoying to them, and so 
amusing to the spectators. How he would bowl down a 
whole string of sophistries, which had been boldly 
set up before the world as so many philosophical 
conclusions not to be overturned! How he would 
turn a fallacy inside out ! How he would scatter 
every kind of mystification, and expose every attempt 
at falsehood and imposition ! How he would strip 
every jackdaw of his borrowed plumes, and raise 
the laugh against every presuming quack ! Yes ! 
He was wit, scholar, philosopher, author, controver- 
sialist, all in one, and good in all. But he was 
something more. We believe Dr. Shepherd's charity, 
for his means, to have been something wonderful. 
We have heard of acts of kindness on his part which 
would have been pronounced noble had they have 
been performed by the wealthiest of our merchant- 
princes, or the highest in the land. What, then, 
were they, when done by one of his limited income 
and resources? His heart was a bank, upon which 
misery had only to draw, and its drafts were sure 
to be accepted and honoured. All respect to his 
name and memory! We know few men who have 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 69 

lived more esteemed; we know of none who have 
done more good in their time. Let his surviving 
friends join with us in offering this tribute to one 
of the giants of the past. 



70 



CHAPTER XII. 



Some people have very strange notions of the duties 
of the historian and the biographer. They fancy that 
our part is to suppress or distort the truth, and to 
substitute flattery for it ; that we should deal in 
sickening and nauseous eulogy only, — 

"In sugar and spice, 
And all that 's nice," — 

and exert our energies in the vain effort to extract sun- 
beams from cucumbers, or to make deal boards out of 
saw-dust. The child, walking in the churchyard, and 
reading the epitaphs, exclaimed, "Mother, where do 
they bury the bad people, for I can only find the good 
ones here ?" But we are not epitaph-mongers, we are 
not flattery-spinners, we are not eulogy-penners. We 
are not, we never were, a society of angels, and we take 
men as we find them. We are not making a collection 
of fancy sketches, to be all beauties. We are forming 
a cabinet of likenesses. We took up our pen with this 
end in view, and we shall' continue to work it out. We 
shall tell "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
the truth." We shall " nothing extenuate, and nought 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 71 

set down in malice," but state facts as facts, call a 
spade a spade, and describe men as they were, not as 
they ougbt to have been. We have of course an object 
in these prefatory remarks. We have. It seems that 
certain, it may be well intentioned, or it may be over 
squeamish, censors and critics are bombarding us with 
good advice, to the effect that we ought in chronicling 
the past to praise everybody ; in other words, as we 
have already hinted, to write epitaphs, not history. 
But, once for all, we beg leave to state that we are not 
going to take this advice. We have, however, two 
propositions to make, in answer to it. The first is, that 
those amiable persons who are shocked by our plain 
speaking should just skip our effusions ; or, if that does 
not satisfy them, we will surrender our task and pen 
and inkstand altogether to them, and allow them to 
begin with the next chapter, and carry our work to a 
conclusion in their own fashion, which we doubt not 
will be infinitely superior to our way of putting our 
rough notes together, and stating our homely thoughts 
in our homely language. We trust that our offer will 
be accepted. We would rather be learners than 
teachers, and shall be delighted to be convinced that 
every common councilman of the last generation was a 
Chesterfield and an Adonis, and every merchant a 
Lindley Murray and an Admirable Crichton, miracles 
of wit, literature and learning. But we, at all events, 
are not the Plutarch to record the mythology, not the 
history, of these impossible prodigies and inconceivable 
wonders. And now we proceed, until our critic volun- 



72 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

teers to supersede us. But, verily, as we return to our 
work, vires acquirit eundo, it grows upon our hands. 
When first we undertook it, we had a notion that we 
could in a brace of chapters dot down all our reminis- 
cences of the times we speak of. But here we are now, 
in Chapter xii., with as yet no port in view, and scud- 
ding along with all sail set over the interminable ocean 
of garrulity, and with our catalogue of worthies 
growing into a far greater magnitude than that of 
Homer's ships. 

"Who goes there?" It is Mr. Birch, afterwards 
Sir Joseph, the father of our late worthy representative. 
A noble-looking specimen of the merchant prince and the 
" fine old English gentleman" was Mr. B., and much 
esteemed and respected by all who knew him. And 
look at the tall, commanding figure that now approaches. 
It is Mr. Brooks, the father of the venerable Kector and 
Archdeacon of that name. And there were the 
Walkers, who lived in Hanover- street, and who in 
their day were the very tip-top of the tip-tops, and the 
head of all the gaiety and fashion of Liverpool. And 
there were the Gregsons, ever one of our first and lead- 
ing families, and the Heskeths, and the Midgleys, and 
the Cald wells. And Arthur Heywood, then a middle- 
aged man, has a foremost place in our recollections. 
And there were the Kathbones, Bensons and Croppers, 
of that generation, as brave-hearted and active and 
zealous philanthropists as their descendants of the 
present day. And there was Hugh Mulleneux, who 
went through a long life marked by deeds of charity, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 73 

and who, to the last of his life, was one of the most 
guileless and sterling men we ever met with. And there 
were the other families of the same name, with a 
different spelling, Thomas Molineux, William Molineux, 
and other brothers, of whom we can safely say that we 
never heard any evil, and knew much good. They had 
hearts exactly in the right place, and with the right 
feelings in them. They are worthily represented yet 
amongst us. Nor must we forget to chronicle the 
name of old Mr. Yates, whose sons still walk worthily 
in the steps of their respected sire. And there were 
Hughes and Duncan, and the celebrated, world- 
famous " Tom Lowndes," who shot like a meteor across 
the sky of the commercial world, and who, in the 
magnificence of his speculations, would have thought 
no more of bidding for the United States for a cabbage 
garden, or of undertaking to pay off the national debt 
at a week's notice, than he would of swallowing his 
breakfast. A fine fellow comes next, Mr. Nicholson, or 
Colonel Nicholson, as we used to call him, a title 
which, we believe, he bore in the militia. He was a 
gentleman out and out, through and through, every 
inch of him, in look, in bearing, in manner, in feeling. 
We never saw to our fancy a handsomer man than he 
was in those days, and amiability sat on every feature 
of his noble countenance. And how he could skate ! 
How we have by turns laughed, and trembled, and 
shouted, and clapped our young hands as we have 
watched him darting along on the St. Domingo pit, 
and then cutting figures of eight and all sorts of fancy 



74 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

forms and hieroglyphics on the ice, and taking the 
most surprising leaps, and achieving all kinds of dan- 
gerous miracles. But, arma cedunt togce. The soldier 
subsequently subsided into the citizen. Mr. Nicholson 
became a member of the Corporation, and was Mayor 
of Liverpool. He married one of the Miss Eoes, in 
Queen-square. She was a niece of the celebrated 
Council King, Mr. Shaw ; and their son, having dropped 
his paternal name for that of his maternal great-uncle, 
now lives at Arrow, in Cheshire. He has a strong 
look of his father in his features, and seems to have 
inherited his kindness of heart and manner. And 
there go the Harvey s, fine fellows every one of them. 
And there is noble old Eushton, who, like his son after 
him, our late respected and lamented magistrate, had a 
head upon his shoulders with something in it, and a 
heart swelling and flowing, aye, and overflowing, not 
merely with a river, but with an ocean, of " the milk of 
human kindness." Shall we ever " look upon his like 
again?" Selfishness was not in his nature. He felt 
for the woes and sorrows of his fellow- creatures without 
respect to colour, climate, creed, or country. His 
sympathies were universal. The earth's limits alone 
were their limits. He might have taken for his motto 
the glorious sentiment which, nearly two thousand 
years ago, called forth such thunders of applause in 
the theatre of ancient Kome : 

" Homo sum, humani nil a me alienum puto." 

All honour and respect and peace to his memory! 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 75 

But we must go on, although you may say — 

" What ! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? 
Another yet ? " 

Yes; and one very different from our last-mentioned 
hero. The next figure upon our canvas was also a 
character in his way. Look at his bluff, resolute, 
determined countenance. It is Captain Crowe, as 
brave a sailor and as odd and eccentric a man as 
ever walked a quarter-deck. Once, in the good ship 
Mary, he fell in with two English sloops of war, 
somewhere in the middle passage, which Liverpool 
ships were engaged upon in those times. They took 
his trim -looking vessel for a French cruiser, and he 
took them for a couple of the same craft. It was, 
however, nothing to old Crowe that they were two to 
one. He was like the stout-hearted ancient, who said 
that he would count his enemies when he had beaten 
them. Night was coming on, and they could not 
distinguish each other's flags. To it they went, and 
kept at it hammer and tongs until morning showed 
them the English colours floating on all their masts. 
The cruisers had, in the dark, made several efforts 
to board him, and had been repulsed with terrible 
loss. The . firing of course ceased as soon as the 
light showed them their mistake, and the senior com- 
mander of the man-of-war sent an officer on board, 
with a sulky civil message, to know if they could do 
anything for him in the way of helping him to repair 
damages. " I want nothing," said the old Turk, with 



76 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

a grim smile, which meant that he had given as 
much as he had taken in the action ; "I want 
nothing, hut a certificate to my owner that I have 
done my duty." 

And who next ? That is Taylor the hrewer. 
And there is another of the same trade, jolly old 
Ackers, great in malt and hops, greater in politics, 
and greatest of all in the actual hustle and conflict 
of an election. And there is his friend with him, 
old Hesketh, the famous tailor, of Paradise-street. 
Instead of heing the ninth part of a man, Hesketh 
was nine men all in one, the picture of a true English- 
man, the very portrait of John Bull himself, a regular 
old Tory, for men, out of his trade, more than mea- 
sures, and with such a good-tempered countenance, 
that it drew customers hetter than a thousand adver- 
tisements, to his shop. 

And there was another character who must not 
be excluded from the "curiosity shop" of our remi- 
niscences. Every old stager must recollect Peter 
Tyrer, the coach - builder, and keeper of hackney- 
coaches. A very primitive - looking man was old 
Peter, but as full of eccentricity and solemn jocularity 
as an egg is full of meat. Peter's jests were always 
uttered with a serious tone, and spoken out of his 
nose more than through his lips, so that we laughed 
at the twang when there was nothing else to laugh 
at. There was occasionally some originality in his 
humour ; but he had one standing joke, a very grave 
one, which has now passed into a regular Joe Miller 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 77 

with the men of his craft. Whenever any one came to 
order the funeral cavalcade which he had to let out, 
he invariably pointed to the plumed hearse, of which 
he was very proud, and observed, "That is the very 
thing for you, for of all that have travelled by it none 
have ever been heard to complain that they had not 
an easy and pleasant journey by it." Poor Peter ! 
And when thy turn came, we trust that thy journey, 
both to the grave and through it, was an easy one ! 
Nor do we doubt it. With all his whims and oddities, 
Peter was a good man, no idle professor, but a zealous, 
practical Christian. We could do with more like 
him. 



78 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Among the great West Indian merchants of the days 
we are writing of, we must not forget to place the 
James and France families. The representative of 
the latter resides at Bostock Hall, not far from North- 
wich, in Cheshire. The present Mr. James sat for 
some years in the House of Commons, and gave 
evidence of talent far beyond mediocrity. There was 
also a spice of originality about him which commanded 
attention whenever he spoke. It was but seldom, 
however, that he opened his lips. Senatorial honours, 
we presume, had no attractions for him. We so 
conclude from his voluntary and premature retreat 
from their pursuit, much to the regret of all his 
friends. There was another Mr. James in Liverpool 
in those days, rather a roughspun and unhewn kind 
of person, and very eccentric and amusing in his way, 
a character, in short, amongst his own circle. Many 
of our old readers must remember Gabriel James, 
or, " the Angel Gabriel, " as some of his waggish 
friends called him. He had a ready tongue and 
plenty of mother wit, and seldom came off second 
best in a tilt and tournament with words. Nor 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 79 

must we omit to mention old Mr. Waterhouse, of 
Everton, a grave and venerable-looking man, whom 
we always regarded with awe and reverence. There 
was Mr. Neilson, too, whose sons still uphold the 
family name amongst us with so much credit and 
respectability. And there was the lively, gay, agreeable 
"Jack Backhouse," who lived in Smithdown-lane ; and 
Mr. Backhouse of Everton, and another family of the 
same name at Wavertree ; and the Colquitts, and the 
Dawsons of Mossley-hill. And the gay parties in those 
times used frequently to be enlivened by Lord Henry 
Murray, who was often a visitor with the Neilsons, 
and Backhouses. 

And we had also our circle of wits, whose sharp 
sayings were passed round, as household words, from 
mouth to mouth, and so afforded pleasure and amuse- 
ment, as they spread from set to set, from one extremity 
of society to the other. First and foremost in this 
bright and brilliant band, we must place Mr. Silvester 
Kichmond, or " Sil Richmond," as he was generally 
called. Next to him was Joe Daltera. And with them 
we must join Sam Pole, and "Jim Gregson," who lived 
in Rodney-street, a man of racy humour, with a fund of 
originality about him which revelled in the utterance of 
good things. And here be it observed, that, as Liver- 
pool is still called the town of " Dicky Sams," so, in 
those ancient days, its people were all Sils, and Joes, 
and Sams, and Jims. It was the custom of the place, 
and equally observable in every rank of society. But, 
for a time, let us speak of our prince of wits, Sil Rich- 



80 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

mond, who was one of the most sparkling, agreeable 
men ever met with in company. Amongst his own set 
no party was ever thought to be complete without him. 
He held the post of a searcher in the Customs, and 
many were the amusing stories, coined, perhaps, to 
raise a laugh at his expense, of the " diamond cut dia- 
mond" warfare carried on between him and persons 
striving to break the Revenue laws, of which he was a 
most vigilant guardian. His powers of conversation 
were immense, and never flagged. He was always the 
rocket, never the stick ; and he was as potent with the 
pen as he was brilliant with the tongue. "We may call 
him the poet laureate of the Tories, with whom he 
warmly sided. The encounters, therefore, between him 
and Dr. Shepherd, who was ever the principal scribe for 
the liberal party, were frequent, fierce, and savage. His 
weapons were not quite so keen and polished as the 
doctor's, but they would do a great deal of mangling 
work, and, like Antseus springing from his mother earth, 
if foiled and thrown in one round, he was always ready 
for another. No amount of punishment could dis- 
hearten him, and he was always in wind, and, what is 
more, kept his temper unruffled in the thickest of the 
fray. He was the author of all the election squibs in 
his day. Out they poured, grave and gay, in prose and 
verse, and he seemed never to be exhausted. We doubt 
not that some of our old stagers yet retain many of 
them among their treasures and curiosities. One line in 
one of his songs is still as fresh upon our mind as if we 
had heard it but yesterday for the first time. Mr. Fogg, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 81 

a butcher, was one of the most zealous and active can- 
vassers in the reform ranks at some election. Richmond 
instantly had his eye upon him, and, bringing intellect 
as well as ink to the work, thus impaled him on the 
point of his wit as he spoke of him as 

"A Fogg that could never be Mist." 

This, of course, told better in the midst of political 
excitement ; but still, at all times, we must admire it 
as a specimen of our friend's ready wit. We used often 
to look up at him in boyish wonder and admiration as 
he cracked his jokes, and his filberts, and his bottle all 
at the same time. And one thing particularly struck 
us. He never led the laugh at his own jests, but looked 
as grave as a judge, and far more knowing, through his 
spectacles, while " setting the table in a roar." 0, for 
another Hamlet! to say for us, "Alas, poor Yorick! 
I knew him well, Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of 
most excellent fancy," etc. Of Mr. Richmond's family, 
one went into the navy, and another into the army. 
They were both fine young fellows. The soldier, called 
after his father, distinguished himself and was wounded 
in the last, we hope that it will always be the last, 
American war. 

But we spoke of Mr., alias " Joe," Daltera just now, 
as one of the circle of wits in the former days which 
are slipping from our memory. He was a regular cha- 
racter in his day and in his way. He was brought up to 
be a solicitor, and at one time was in partnership with 
he late Mr. Topham. He had abilities to have raised 

G 



82 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

himself to the greatest eminence in his profession, but 
he wanted business habits. He had no application, no 
attention, no steadiness of purpose. In short, he was of 
a jovial, convivial turn of mind, full of fun and frolic 
and glee, was fond of company, and greatly preferred 
shining in society to poring over parchments. He was 
a terrible sitter at a party. He never sung, "We'll 
not go home till morning," but practically it was 
impossible to get rid of him until long after the short 
hours had set in ; and, in truth, he was such a pleasant 
companion, so overflowing with sparkling conversation, 
" full of mirth and full of glee," as we said before, that 
no one ever made the attempt. Steady old fellows at 
whose houses he used to visit would say, before he 
arrived, " We will be rude to that Daltera to-night, and 
give him a hint that shall send him home in decent 
time." But when the appointed hour had struck, and 
long after, these same steady old boys, fascinated by 
Joe's wonderful powers of jest and anecdote, were the 
loudest in pressing him to keep his seat, a pressure 
which he never resisted. He thought, with Dibdin's 
famous song, that there was " nothing like grog," or, 
as he and his familiars called it, "rosin." Often, when 
you thought that at last he was really going, he would 
suddenly exclaim, instead of "one glass more," "Now, 
lads, rosin again, and then we '11 positively go." He 
could not use his pen like Eichmond, but he was 
quite his match in wit and repartee. Countless 
were the stories told of his sayings and doings. Once 
the watchman found him in the street quite unequal 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 83 

to steer his course home. This friend in need wished 
to place him in a wheelbarrow, and to carry him to 
his house in this kind of triumphal car, when 
Daltera, steadying himself for a moment, and throw- 
ing himself into a theatrical attitude, astonished 
poor "old Charley" as he addressed him, a la John 
Kemble, whom he had seen performing the character 
that night, " Villain, stand back ; the gods take care of 
Cato ! " We ourselves remember crossing the river with 
him, in one of the old fashioned ferry-boats, before the 
invention of steamers. There was a stiff breeze, next 
door to a gale of wind, blowing, and we were in momen- 
tary peril from the rash attempt of the boatmen to 
head a ship at anchor. The sailors themselves were 
alarmed, while most of the passengers were in an agony 
of terror. One poor market-woman, in the excess of 
her fright, threw herself upon her knees in the middle 
of the boat, and burst out into the exclamation, " Lord, 
have mercy upon us ! " when the inveterate punster, 
alluding to the name of the river, thus cried out to her, 
" No, no, my good woman ; do not say, * The Lord 
have Mersey upon us' this time!" We were both 
vexed and shocked at the moment, as the jest out of 
season jarred upon our ears, while the crew and the 
passengers looked inclined to extemporise poor Joe 
into a Jonah at the instant. But we have often smiled 
at it since. Poor fellow, he could not help it. He 
could no more have kept it in than the effervescence 
will remain quiet in a ginger-beer bottle when the cork 
is drawn. It was the ruling passion strong in death, or 



84 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

in the face of death. Like Sheridan, " he had it in him, 
and it would come out." On another occasion, it was 
said that, upon landing from the boat at Kuncorn, or 
some village between here and Chester, he was seized 
upon by several persons, who supposed him, from his 
dress of sober black, to be some celebrated preacher 
whom they expected, and were on the look out for. 
Joe, having made himself safe and certain on two points, 
namely, in the first place, that none of the villagers had 
ever seen the anticipated star; and, secondly, that he 
could not possibly arrive that day by any conveyance, 
humoured the mistake, was carried in triumph to the 
chapel, preached the most brilliant sermon ever heard, 
and delighted and won the hearts of the elders, by 
whom he was entertained, withal taking care to dis- 
appear from the scene the next morning before the real 
Simon Pure arrived. We do not, recollect, vouch for the 
accuracy of all the details connected with this episode. 
"We only relate it as we have heard it related by Daltera 
himself a hundred times. Poor Joe ! He had many 
friends, and only one enemy, and that was himself. 
He wasted talents, energy, wit, brilliancy, which would 
have made an intellectual capital for a hundred shining 
characters. But who is faultless ? Let us look at the 
beam in our own eye. 



85 



CHAPTER XIV. 



In our last chapter we mentioned the names of some 
of the wits and illustrious in jest of whom Liverpool 
could boast a few years since. We now descend the 
scale, to speak of a class whom we would mildly call 
"the practical jokers." The Spectator makes glorious 
old Sir Roger de Coverley horribly afraid of the club 
of Mohocks who, many years since, pushed their 
horse-play in the metropolis into positive ruffianism, 
and perpetrated the most savage outrages under the 
name of fun and frolic. But the sports of the Liver- 
pool mischief-mongers at the commencement of the 
present century were of a much more harmless and 
innocent character. One young gentleman, who sub- 
sequently flourished as a grave old stager amongst us, 
had- a passion for collecting, in a kind of museum, or 
" curiosity shop," all the signs and signboards which 
struck his fancy ; and it was said that he had a large 
muster of black boys, carried off from the different 
tobacconists' shops in the town. And sometimes he 
varied the amusement in the following fashion: — In 
Pool-lane, now modernised into South Castle-street, was 
a famous ship-instrument maker's shop, in the front 



86 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

of which was elevated a wooden figure of a midshipman 
in full costume, at which we have often gazed with fond 
delight in ancient days, and which we are now con- 
vinced must have been the original of the one which 
Dickens, in Dombey, makes Captain Cuttle contem- 
plate with so much pride and pleasure. Somewhere 
in the same locality was one of the tobacconists' shops 
of which we have spoken, with the then usual sign of 
a black boy over the door. Time after time would our 
funny and facetious friend substitute these signs one 
for the other, so that, when morning broke, the mid- 
shipman would shine forth in all his glory at the door 
of the snuff and tobacco store, while the black boy 
would be grinning in front of the ship-instrument 
maker's premises. At last the joke wore itself out. 
The perpetrator of it never was discovered. He pre- 
ferred to play his " fantastic tricks " alone, and kept his 
own secret. But there were also associated bodies for 
the performance of the same kind of mad pranks. One 
set of them formed themselves into what they dignified 
with the name of " A Committee of Taste," although 
they and their friends called them, over their cups, 
" The Minions of the Moon." Their object seemed to 
be to emulate and imitate the merry" doings of Falstaff 
and his companions. They occasionally, however, pushed 
their jokes somewhat too far. There was a house in 
Daulby-street, then a sort of rus in xirhe, or, rather, 
country altogether. It had a garden in front, and was 
ornamented with a verandah. This it appears did not 
please these fastidious gentlemen, and the owner was 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 87 

served with a notice, signed by "the Chairman of the 
Committee of Taste," directing him to alter or remove 
it by a certain day. To this command he paid no 
attention. Well, the day arrived ; 

" The ides of March are come. 
Ay, Caesar; but not gone." 

The verandah was still there. But that very night, at 
a few minutes before twelve o'clock, a loud knock at 
the door called the owner of the house to the window 
which overlooked it. The moment he appeared, with 
his head and the nightcap upon it looming through 
the darkness, a cheer welcomed him from the opposite 
side of the street. Then came a pull, and smash, 
crash; the verandah, with all its trellis-work and 
ornaments, was gone. The rogues had sawed away 
the supports, made their ropes fast, and then, with 
wicked waggishness, summoned the gentleman of the 
house to witness the destruction of his offending 
property. We will chronicle another of the feats 
of the " Committee of Taste." At that period Mr. 
Samuel Staniforth lived in the large house at the 
bottom of Ranelagh- street, afterwards converted into 
the famous Waterloo Hotel. Something about it, 
either a shutter, or a knocker, or a bell-handle, we have 
forgotten which, was excommunicated by this tasteful 
inquisition, and ordered to be removed. Mr. Staniforth 
was about the last man in the world to obey such a 
lawless mandate, being one of that class, who, " if 
reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, would not 



88 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

give one on compulsion." He therefore treated the 
notice served on him with contempt. And now the 
battle began in good earnest. 

" When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." 

The thing denounced, whatever it was, was removed, 
then restored, and again removed, to be once more 
restored, and still in the original offending form, 
without an atom of alteration. And so the struggle 
went on, until Mr. Staniforth became highly exaspe- 
rated, as well as extremely indignant at the persevering 
annoyance. Of this, the jokers, who met him with 
grave and sympathising faces every day in society, 
were fully aware, and only made thereby more reso- 
lute in their fun. In the extremity of his vexation 
he consulted George Kowe, the attorney, of whom we 
we have made honourable mention in a former chap- 
ter. We speak from authority, for we had the story 
from Mr. Kowe himself, who used often to tell it 
with great glee. "When the offended alderman had 
unbosomed all his griefs to the solicitor, and had urged 
him to exert all his vigilance to discover the offenders, 
and then to put in force all the terrors and pains 
and penalties of the law against them, the latter met 
the history of his sorrows with one of his good-natured 
and hearty laughs, to the great astonishment of his 
client, who certainly did not belong to the laughing 
portion of the creation. When he had settled himself 
into seriousness, he said, "Well, Mr. Staniforth, I 
suppose, after all, your object is to abate the nuisance, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 89 

rather than trounce the sinners." Staniforth, however, 
was not so sure that he would not like to do both, 
and "kill two birds with one stone." But at last, 
after a long and serious confabulation, he was per- 
suaded to leave the whole affair in the hands of the 
lawyer, who, indeed, would only undertake it on that 
condition. Now Mr. Kowe, although he had no guilty 
knowledge of the offenders, had a shrewd guess in 
his own mind, and, acting upon the impulse, wrote 
a note, desiring to have a conference with the chief 
captain of the knocker and bell banditti. They met, 
and on the next day glorious old George, sending 
for Mr. Staniforth, laid the result before him. The 
latter was exceedingly angry at first when he heard 
that the bold rogues, instead of being overwhelmed 
with sorrow and remorse, still took up very high ground, 
being determined to make him capitulate on the im- 
mediate point at issue, but with a promise on their part 
that he should never more be annoyed by them on any 
other. At first he would listen to no such terms, 
regarding any treaty with the parties as little better 
than compounding for a felony. Gradually, however, he 
yielded to the reasonings of his adviser, and the agree- 
ment, without being duly signed and sealed, was 
honourably carried out on both sides. "And to whom," 
we said to George Eowe, when sitting one day with him 
after dinner, with our legs under his mahogany, "to 
whom did you address your note when you wanted to 
have this celebrated interview with the ' Chairman of 
the Committee of Taste ? '" " Why, to Joe Daltera, to 



90 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

be sure," he answered, with a very thunder-clap of 
laughter, which almost made me tremble lest a blood 
vessel should burst or apoplexy ensue ; " Why, to Joe 
Daltera, to be sure, who else could it be ? " 

But alas, alas ! for the flight and power of time ! 
Of the actors in this amusing scene, all have passed 
from the arena of busy life. We marvel whether any 
of the aforesaid " Committee of Taste " yet survive, to 
sigh or to smile over the wild pranks of their youth ! 
But how is it that such follies are only remembered, not 
perpetrated, now? As Mr. Pickwick observed, when 
prosecuted for a breach of promise, men are very much 
the victims and tools of circumstances. When we look 
at the class to whom the parties of whom we have been 
speaking belonged, we can find many reasons, without 
any boast of merit and improvement, which will explain 
why young gentlemen in these times should not roam 
through the streets by night, bent upon fun and mischief, 
for hours and hours. Forty or fifty years ago, men met 
together to dine about three o'clock. They had, con- 
sequently, not only a longer time to devote to the bottle, 
but also, when they broke up, excited by wine, some 
hours to get through as best they could, before they 
retired to bed. This would have a wonderful influence 
upon their conduct. Moreover, we had only a few old 
watchmen in those days, who were as much alarmed at 
the approach of our " bucks," as the travellers by an 
Eastern caravan at the appearance of the wild Arabs of 
the desert. Again, the introduction of gas for lighting 
the streets, instead of the old oil-lamps which, "few and 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 91 

far between," used to twinkle in the distance and just 
to " make darkness visible," bad a wonderful influence 
upon tbe habits of our young men. Some great 
authority on such matters in the metropolis calculated 
that, for enforcing order, one gas-lamp was equal, at 
least, to three policemen. There are many persons 
over whom the fear of being found out exerts a strong 
power. What they would do under the veil of darkness 
they strenuously avoid when its shelter is removed. 
The temptation may be strong, the will may be present, 
but the opportunity is wanting. These remarks, how- 
ever, only apply to one class of society. But, when we 
make our survey more general, we must also take into 
account the march of knowledge, the increase of me- 
chanics' and literary institutes, and the spread of cheap 
and useful books among the masses. To the printing- 
press we doubtless owe much for our improved tastes 
and habits. Who, indeed, can calculate the might, the 
magnitude, and extent of its diversified influences and 
powers? It is our schoolmaster, our instructor, our 
guide, our guardian, our police, all in one. Praise and 
honour to those who wield the pen, as long as they use 
it for the benefit and advantage of their fellow-creatures. 
Ill-disposed persons may pervert it to be an instrument 
of evil. But who can tell the amount of its well-doing 
when directed to good? Truly did the wit observe, 
that the greatest stand ever yet made for the improve- 
ment and civilisation of mankind was the inkstand. 



02 



CHAPTER XV. 



A little back from Water-street, between it and St. 
Nicholas's Church, stood an ancient Tower in those 
days. It was one of the remaining antiquities of 
Liverpool. It had originally belonged to the Lathams, 
of Latham, and subsequently passed, by the marriage 
of the heiress of that family, into the hands of the 
Stanleys, some generations before the elevation of that 
illustrious house to the Derby title. At a later period i^ 
had become an assembly-room, and, last of all, by one 
of those strange vicissitudes to which all earthly things 
are liable, was a prison for debtors. But at the time 
we speak of there it was, as if frowning in gloomy 
strength upon the encroachments which modern im- 
provements and the spirit of enterprise were making 
on every side of it, a grim old giant, the type, and 
symbol, and representative of other times. As we con- 
templated its massive walls or walked under its shadow, 
what reflections it was calculated to awaken within us. 
We were then too young for our mind to dwell very 
seriously or very long upon such topics, but we have 
often since thought within ourselves that, if stone walls 
had ears, and eyes, and tongues, what strange histories 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 93 

that old Tower could have told. It carried us back to 
what we call an age of romance, but what, in fact, was 
an age of stern and iron realities. What associations 
and recollections did the very sight of it conjure up 
within us ! The monument of many centuries of glory 
and crime ! In its day, although now merely an object 
of curiosity and a prison for debtors, the palace and 
fortress of nobles ! In its day, perhaps, like other old 
castles within the land, the living grave, and the grave, 
when dead, of the guilty and innocent alike, of the 
ambitious and the victims of ambition, of heroes and 
saints, of martyrs and traitors, of princes and impos- 
tors, of patriots and conspirators ! How often has the 
mailed chivalry of the middle ages rode forth through 
these gates in all its magnificence, pomp, and pride ! 
How often has chained innocence been dragged through 
them to its dungeon's depths, and to the shambles to 
which, perchance, they were the passage, feeling, as 
they turned upon their grating hinges and shut it from 
the world for ever, all the tremendous force of the 
" Hope no more ! " which the Italian poet wrote over 
the entrance to his Infernal Regions ! If, we repeat, 
its walls had tongues, what wonders could they tell, 
what secrets reveal, what mysteries unravel ! What 
mighty or memorable names have resided, or been 
imprisoned and perished here! What strange things 
have been enacted within these gray old stones now 
crumbling into ruin, while the wronged and the wrong- 
doers have together passed to judgment ! But the 
period for indulging such contemplations has long 



94 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

since passed away. The spirit of feudalism, after 
holding its ground for so many centuries, at last 
yielded to the genius of commerce, and the gloomy old 
Tower was sacrificed upon the altars of modern im- 
provement. Carters and porters now shout and swear 
where stout old knights and ladies fair held high 
revelry ; and sugar hogsheads, and rum puncheons, and 
cotton bags are now hoisted, and roll, and creak, and 
clash where prisoners once groaned and chains clanked. 
It is a new version of arma cedunt toga. 

But we are becoming grave ; we moralise ; we 
preach; Vive la bagatelle. Let us go back for a few 
moments to the subject of the last chapter, and speak 
a little more of those mischief-mongers who dignified 
themselves with the title of "The Committee of Taste." 
We therein stated that Daltera was the understood or 
suspected head of the said Committee. On the same 
authority, neither better nor worse than the assertion 
of common report, it was whispered that, amongst its 
members, were some other dashing spirits of the day, 
to wit, Mr. "William, alias " Billy Graham," "Young 
Sutton," as Mr. William of that ilk was always called, 
"Bob Pickering," cum multis aliis, the multis aliis 
including some, we find, who are yet amongst us, and 
whom, therefore, we would not name for all the world, 
and so expose them to their children and grandchildren, 
who look up to them as models of gravity, propriety, 
and piety. One venerable gentleman, whom, from his 
confessions, we suspect to have been at least an honor- 
ary member, said to us only the other day, — and in such 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 95 

a free and easy and impenitent sort of way, that we 
verily believe that, with youth restored, and opportunity 
returned, and policemen and gas-lamps extinguished, 
he would soon be at his old pranks again, — "Daltera 
was always pre-eminent for good taste, and was, there- 
fore, elected President of the Committee." Finding 
that our friend was inclined to be communicative, we 
pressed him for more of his reminiscences, when he 
added, " They were fine fellows, and woe unto any- 
thing that came under their waggish displeasure ! " 
They carried on, he told us, a long war, a repetition of 
that which has been already described between them 
and Mr. Staniforth, with Mr. Parke, the celebrated 
surgeon, touching the shape of his knocker. Dr. Solo- 
mon, who then lived in the large house at the top of 
Low-hill, had his grounds studded over with statues, 
of which he was not a little proud. They were voted 
to be not classical by the men of taste, and the decree 
went forth for their removal, and was carried out on 
the appointed night, when they were all taken from 
their pedestals, the " old charley " of the beat being 
either asleep, or feed or frightened into silence. And 
we must record another of their performances. 

Our readers must recollect Mr William Wallace 
Currie. He was not himself a man of jokes, and he 
was about the last man in the world to joke with. 
Well, he had an office for his business, upon the door 
of which was inscribed, in the usual way, "William 
Wallace Curkie." One morning, upon his arrival, 
he was utterly horrified to find into what the men of 



96 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

taste had transmuted or translated him. The intro- 
duction of a comma and the addition of a single letter 
astonished him with this new reading of his name and 
profession, "William Wallace, Currier." He 
joined in the laugh, and there was an end of it. Nor 
is this the only play upon Mr. Currie's name which we 
have to record. The late Egerton Smith, to whom be 
all honour and respect as the father of the Liberal 
press in this district, and for the honesty and independ- 
ence and goodness of character which distinguished 
his long career, once made an admirable hit upon it, 
which, although it has been in print before, will bear 
repeating, and is worth preserving. When Mr. John 
Bourne, as worthy a man as ever lived, was Mayor 
under the old Corporation, Mr. Currie was one of his 
bailiffs ; and Egerton, being asked on some occasion for 
a toast or sentiment, following the Lancashire pro- 
nunciation of their names, electrified the company 
by proposing, "Burn the Mayor, and Curry the 
bailiff." 

And now for one more witticism from Daltera, of 
whom we have already related so much. It was at 
the expense of the same Mr. Fogg, whose impalement 
by Eichmond, in an electioneering song, we have 
immortalised in a former chapter. At a dinner given 
at Ormskirk by the mess of a regiment of volunteers, 
or local militia, in which Fogg was a subaltern, Daltera 
was among the guests. When the cloth was removed, 
Poor Joe, as was " his custom of an afternoon," 
became very lively and exhilarated, and, fancying that 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 97 

the other was somewhat dull, suddenly turned to 
him, and slapping him on the back, exclaimed, " Come, 
Fogg, clear up/" amidst roars of laughter from the 
party. A veteran officer of the Guards, who happened 
to be one of the company, still tells this story with the 
greatest glee and pleasure, and looks back upon the 
day in question as one of the merriest and most 
amusing he ever spent. 

But we mentioned the name of Mr. William Wallace 
Currie just now. We must return to him. He was 
not a man to be casually mentioned and then passed 
by. He was the eldest son of the great Dr. Currie. 
His abilities were above mediocrity, and his mind 
well-cultivated and stored with literature. He may 
be described as a reading man, in an almost non- 
reading community. As a speaker, he was ready, but 
not eloquent. He had more affluence of argument 
than command of oratory, but he never failed to 
express himself to the satisfaction of his hearers. 
In his own circle of society he was much esteemed. 
As a party . leader, he was greatly respected by the 
public, who regarded him as that rara avis, an honest 
politician. His life confirms the verdict, for, with 
undoubted influence at his command, he never used it 
to subserve his own ambition or push his own private 
interest. That he was never in Parliament may *be 
ascribed to his own modesty. We have heard of 
more than one borough where the electors would 
gladly have chosen him to be their representative. 



98 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

Mr. Currie is still remembered with strong affection 
by his friends, and, when they likewise have passed 
away, his name will yet survive for many a generation 
in the title-page of one of the most delightful books 
which we ever remember to have read. We speak 
of the Life of Dr. Currie, by his son. In reading 
it, we were charmed and fascinated by the letters 
and sentiments of the father, and so pleased with 
the setting in which these jewels were exhibited to 
us, that our only regret was, that the biographer did 
not, in executing his task so well, give us more of 
his own work, but left us to rise from the intellectual 
treat which he had set before us with an appetite 
rather whetted than satisfied by the feast which we 
had been enjoying. 

We have said that the reading men in old Liverpool 
were few. Let us chronicle another of their names, 
Mr. Alexander Freeland, who still survives amongst 
us. His inquisitive mind has long since, we may 
say, made the tour of literature, and the stores of it 
which he has accumulated are surprising, as he unlocks 
the treasuries of his mind in the chosen circle before 
whom " he comes out." We must also place another 
veteran, Mr. Henry Lawrence, in the ranks of both 
well-read and literary men. He always had a good 
seat in the intellectual tournament, and carried a 
good lance in the tilting of wit. He was never 
wanting to contribute his part, when present, at "the 
feast of reason and the flow of soul." To catalogue 






LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 99 

all his clever sayings would be an endless work. His 
conversational powers were brilliant and infinite. His 
wit was keen and of the purest order. We defy the 
young stagers of to-day to produce his match out of 
their ranks. 



100 



CHAPTER XVI. 



It would be a strange picture of 'Liverpool a few years 
since' which did not exhibit Mr. (afterwards Sir) John 
Gladstone in the foreground of the canvas. He had, 
in those early days, already taken his position, and 
was evidently destined to play a conspicuous part 
in this busy world. We never remember to have 
met with a man who possessed so inexhaustible 
a fund of that most useful of all useful qualities, 
good common sense. It was never at fault, never 
baffled. His shrewdness as a man of business was 
proverbial. His sagacity in all matters connected 
with commerce was only not prophetic. He seemed 
to take the whole map of the world into his mind at 
one glance, and almost by intuition to discover, not 
only which were the best markets for to-day, but 
where there would be the best opening to-morrow. 
What was speculation with others was calculation with 
him. The letters which from time to time, through 
a long series of years, he sent forth, like so many 
signal-rockets, to the trading world, under the signa 
ture of Mercator, were looked upon as oracular by a 
iarge portion of the public. And there is little doubt 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 101 

that his authority was often sought and acted upon, 
in commercial legislation, by the different Administra- 
tions by which the country has been governed during 
the last half-century. We recollect, many years ago, 
standing under the gallery of the House of Commons 
with the late Mr. Huskisson. A sugar question was 
under discussion, and Mr. Goulburn was hammering 
and stammering through a string of figures and 
details, which it was clear he did not comprehend 
himself, and which he was in vain labouring to make 
the House comprehend. Mr. Huskisson smiled, as 
he quietly observed, " Goulburn has got his facts, 
and figures, and statistics from Mr. Gladstone, and 
they are all as correct and right as possible, but he 
does not understand them, and will make a regular 
hash of it ! " Mr. Gladstone was himself in Parlia- 
ment for some years, and was always listened to 
most respectfully on mercantile affairs. If he did 
not make any very distinguished figure, it was because 
he did not enter upon public life until he had reached 
an age at which men's habits are formed, and at which 
they rather covet a seat in the House of Commons as 
a feather or crowning honour of their fortunes, than 
as an admission into an arena in which they intend 
to become gladiators in the strife, and to plunge 
into all the toils, and intrigues, and bustle of states- 
manship. Had our clever townsman entered Parlia- 
ment at an earlier period, and devoted himself to it, 
we have no doubt that he would have been found a 
match for the best of them, and might have risen to 



102 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

the highest departments of the Government. His 
name is well represented amongst us still. He left 
four sons behind him, one of whom, the Eight 
Honourable William Ewart Gladstone, is second, to 
no statesman of the day, either in promise or per- 
formance, eloquence or abilities. Mr. Gladstone lived 
in Rodney-street, in a house subsequently taken by 
Mr. Cardwell, the father of our late clever and gifted 
representative. So that, by a remarkable coincidence, 
Mr. W. E. Gladstone and Mr. Cardwell, severally the 
best men of their standing, first at the university, and 
now in the list of statesmen, are not only from the 
same county of Lancaster, which produces so large a 
proportion of the able men in every profession, but from 
the same town, and the same street in the same town, 
and the same house in the same street. Did ever house 
so carry double, and with two such illustrious riders, 
before? Nor must we forget to mention Mr. Robert 
Gladstone, an amiable, kind-hearted man, and one 
of the most agreeable persons ever to be met with in 
society, always anxious to please and be pleased. 

And there was Dr. Crompton, a fearless, outspoken 
man, English all over in his bearing. He was the father 
of the new judge, whose appointment enabled proud 
Liverpool to say that, as before in Judge Parke, she 
had furnished the cleverest occupant of the bench, so 
now she may boast that the two best are both her 
sons. And what a glorious old fellow, kind, clever, 
benevolent, well-read, well-informed, and well-disposed 
was Ottiwell Wood. Who can forget him ? His 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 103 

Christian name was a curious and rare one. He was 
once a witness on some trial, when the judge, rather 
puzzled in making out his name, called upon him to 
spell it. Out came the answer in sonorous thunder: 
"0 double T, I double U, E double L, double U, 
double 0, D." His lordship, if puzzled before, was 
now, if we may perpetrate such an atrocious pun, 
fairly " doubled up" amidst the laughter of the court. 
"We lately, in our travels, met with a gentleman at a 
party in a distant county. His name, as he entered the 

room, was announced, " The Kev. Ottiwell ■ ■." 

When we had been introduced to him, we ventured 
to ask him where he got it. " Oh ! " he replied, "I 
was so called after an old Lancashire relation of mine, 
as worthy a man as ever lived, Mr. Ottiwell Wood, 
of Liverpool." We struck up an alliance, offensive 
and defensive, and " swore eternal friendship " on 
the spot. We recollect another gentleman, also called 
Wood, who once, playing upon the names of some of 
our fashionables, at a party where he was amongst 
the guests, thus exclaimed, as he entered the room, 
"There are, I see, Hills, Lakes, and Littledales, it 
only wanted Wood to. perfect the scene." 

The Littledales here mentioned were then, as the 
representatives of the family still are, among the most 
thriving and prosperous of our leading people. They 
brought both intelligence and industry to their work. 
They owed nothing to chance, for they left nothing to 
chance. And we may truly say of them, that, to what- 
ever branch of commerce or the professions they 



104 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

devoted themselves, they deserved and adorned the suc- 
cess which they achieved. And here we cannot pass on 
without relating an excellent bon mot from the lips ot 
Judge Littledale, the brother of Anthony, Isaac and 
George of the last generation, all, in their different 
ways, distinguished men amongst our old stagers. 
Some years since, a gentlemen, now one of the most 
prominent of the rising barristers on the Northern 
Circuit, had, when almost a boy, to appear before the 
judge in some legal matter. We do not understand 
the jargon and technicalities of the law. The opposing 
party, however, moved that, in a certain case, "the 
rule be enlarged." To this our young Mend demurred, 
alleging, according to the letter of his instructions, 
that "he had never, in the whole course of his expe- 
rience, heard of a rule being enlarged under such cir- 
cumstances." " Then," replied the judge, with the 
blandest of smiles, "young gentleman, we will enlarge 
the rule and your experience at the same time." 
Never was anything better than this uttered in a court 
of justice. We heard the story from the young gen- 
tleman of such great experience himself. It made an 
impression on him that will never be effaced; and, 
doubtless, when a judge himself, he will repeat the 
anecdote for the benefit of the horse-hair wigs of the 
next generation. 

But, to keep to Liverpool, there must be many yet 
alive who remember Mr. D'Aguilar among the cele- 
brities and fashionables of the town. A tall, fine-look- 
ing, portly man he was. Mrs. D'Aguilar was a 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 105 

charming person in society, the life of every party, 
and retained to the end of a long life all the vivacity 
and cheerfulness, as well as the appearance, of youth. 
She seemed never to grow older. One of their sons, 
Mr. Joseph D'Aguilar, was decidedly among the wits 
of the day, and had many a sharp saying and good 
story attributed to him. Another was General D'Aguilar, 
who distinguished himself in the Peninsular war, and 
is the soldier, scholar and gentleman, all three com- 
bined in one. Mrs. Laurence', so long the queen of 
fashion in this locality, was one of their daughters, 
and, like her brothers, inherited a large portion of 
intellect from her parents. The patroness of literature 
in others, she has herself just gone far enough into 
its realms to excite our regret that she has not gone 
further. A kindred spirit of Mrs. Hemans, we often 
wish that she had not only extended her sympathies 
to that gifted genius, but had, with her own pen, 
roamed with her, "fancy free," into the regions of 
poesy, and emulated her inspirations. 

And here let us turn aside to embalm the memory 
of another old stager, well known and much liked in 
his day, William Rigby. A gentleman in his bearing, 
endowed with no slight powers of conversation ; clever, 
witty, social, convivial, he was a most popular man 
in his circle. And, besides, he played a hand at whist 
second to none, which always made him a welcome 
guest at houses where card tables appeared. He was 
a tall, handsome man, with eyes twinkling with the 
humour and jocularity which made him such an agree- 



106 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

able companion. And shall we forget Devaynes, that 
nonpareil of an amateur in the conjuring line. Talk 
not to us of your wizards of the north, or of the south, 
or of the east, or of the west. Devaynes was worth 
them all put together. How we have stared in our 
boyish days, half in wonder, and half in alarm, at his 
wonderful tricks, perfectly convinced in our own mind 
that such an accomplished master of arts must assuredly 
be in league with some unmentionable friend in the 
unseen world. As you sat at table with him, your 
piece of bread would suddenly begin to walk towards 
him. Before you had recovered from this astonish- 
ment your wine glass would start after it, next your 
knife and fork, and then your plate would move, like 
a hen after its chickens, in the same direction. And 
then how he would swallow dishes, joints of meat, 
decanters, and everything that came in his way. He 
was a perfect terror to the market-women, who really 
believed that he was on the most intimate terms with 
the unmentionable old gentleman aforesaid. Having 
made his purchases, and got his change for his guinea 
or half guinea, he would put the coin into their hand, and 
say to them, " Now, hold it fast, and be sure you have 
it; " and then, before leaving them, he would add, "look 
again, and be certain," when, the hand being opened, 
there was either nothing in it, or perhaps a farthing, 
or a sixpence. And even when the joke was over, and 
he had left the market, they eyed the fairy money both 
with suspicion and alarm, lest it should disappear, and 
were never easy until they had paid it away in change 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 107 

to some other customer. ' How well we remember these 
things ! The performer of them was a quiet, unassum- 
ing man, much respected by all who knew him, and 
certainly one of whom it could not be said that he was 
" no conjuror." 



108 



CHAPTER XVII. 



We have spoken in a former chapter of the oil lamps, 
which, "few and far between," just made darkness 
visible, and of the old watchmen, who were supposed 
or not supposed to be the guardians of our lives and 
property. The latter deserve another word. The old 
watchmen, or " Charleys," as they were generally 
called, were perfect " curiosities of humanity," and the 
principle on which they were selected and the rules by 
which they were guided were as curious as themselves. 
They seem to be chosen as schoolmasters are still 
chosen in remote villages in the rural districts, namely, 
because they were fit for nothing else, and must be 
kept off the parish as long as possible. They were 
for the most part, wheezy, asthmatic old men, generally 
with a very bad cough, and groaning under the weight 
of an immense great coat, with immense capes, which 
almost crushed them to the ground, the very ditto, 
indeed of him of whom it was written, 

" Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door." 

They carried a thick staff, not so much a weapon of 
offence as to support their tottering steps. They had 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 109 

also rattles in their hands, typical, we presume, of the 
coming rattles in the throat, for they were of no earthly 
use whatever. Each of them was furnished with a 
snug box, in which they slept as long as possible. 
But, if ever they did wake up, their proceedings were 
of a most remarkable kind. They set forth round 
their beat with a lantern in their hands, as a kind of 
beacon to warn thieves and rogues that it was time 
to hide, until these guardians of the night had performed 
the farce of vigilance and gone back to snore. More- 
over, like an army marching to surprise an enemy with 
all the regimental bands performing a grand chorus, 
they also gave notice of their approach to the same kind 
of gentry by yelling the hour of the night and the state 
of the weather with a tremulous and querulous voice, 
something between a grunt and a squeak, which even 
yet reminds us of the lines in Dunciad ; 

" Silence, ye wolves ! while Ralph to Cynthia howls, 
And makes night hideous : answer him, ye owls." 

But, to be sure, the wisdom of our forefathers had a 
double object in view when they ordered this musical 
performance to be got up. It not only saved the poor 
old watchmen from conflicts in which they must have 
suffered grievously, but it served another purpose, and 
so " killed two birds with one stone" with a vengeance. 
Only fancy the happiness of a peaceful citizen, fast 
asleep after the toils and fatigues of the day, to have 
his first slumber disturbed that he might be told that 
it was " half-past eleven o'clock, and a cloudy night," 



110 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

and then, by the time that he had digested this interest- 
ing intelligence and was composing himself on his 
pillow again, to be again aroused to learn that it was 
now " twelve o'clock, and a starlight morning," and 
so on every half-hour until day-break. The vagaries 
of the veritable queen Mab, with'" tithe pigs' tails" and 
all the rest of it, were only more poetical, not the least 
more rest-disturbing, than the shouts of these bawlers 
of the night. Truly, the watch committee of those 
days might have taken for their motto, " Macbeth does 
murder sleep." And many were the funny tricks 
played upon these poor, helpless old creatures, by the 
practical jokers who then so abounded amongst us. 
Sometimes they would, when caught napping, be nailed 
up in their boxes, while occasionally, by way of variety, 
their persecutors would lay them gently on the ground 
with the doors downwards, so that their unhappy 
inmates would be as helpless as a turtle turned upon 
its back, and be kept prisoners till morning. In short, 
"a Charley" was considered fair game for every lover 
of mischief to practise upon, and their tormentors were 
never tired of inventing new devices for teazing and 
annoying them. Latterly, however, as the town grew 
larger, the veteran battalions, the cripples, wheezers, 
coughers, and asthmatics, were superseded by a more 
stalwart race, who looked as if they would stand no 
nonsense, and could do a little fighting at a pinch. 

The last of these men, whom we recollect before the 
establishment of the new police, had the beat in the 
neighbourhood of Clayton-square. Many of our readers 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEABS SINCE. Ill 

must recollect him. He was a six-foot muscular Irish- 
man. " Well, Pat," some of the young ones, who are 
middle aged gentlemen now, used to say to him, "Well, 
Pat, what of O'Connell ? " On such occasions Pat invari- 
ably drew himself up, like a soldier on parade, to his full 
height, looked devoutly upwards, and then solemnly ex- 
claimed, "There 's One above, sir — and — next to him — 
is Daniel O'Connell ! " And it was a name to conjure 
with in his day ! We respected, as often as we heard 
of it, that poor fellow's reverence for his mighty 
countryman, and felt that, had we been Irish, we also 
should have placed that name first and foremost in our 
calendar of saints, martyrs, patriots and heroes. Who 
is there now of his name and nation who can rise and 
say, " Mr. Speaker, I address you as the representative 
of Ireland." But, forward. How the old times, and 
the old things, and the old oil-lamps, and the old 
watchmen have all passed away and disappeared ! 
And the old pig- tails, too, have vanished with them. 
When we first escaped from petticoats into jacket and 
trousers, every man, young and old, wore a hairy append- 
age at the back of his head, called a pigtail, as if 
anxious to support Lord Monboddo's theory, that man 
had originally been a tailed animal of the monkey 
tribe ; for surely our ivholesale re-tailing, if we may so 
speak, could have been for no other purpose. Pigtails 
were of various sorts and sizes. The sailors wore an 
immense club of hair reaching half-way down their 
backs, like that worn by one of Ingoldsby's heroes, and 
thus described by him, — 



112 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

" And his pigtail is long, and bushy, and thick, 
Like a pump handle stuck on the end of a stick." 

Those of tlie soldiers were somewhat less in magnitude, 
but still enormous in their proportions. And quiet 
citizens wore jauntily one little dainty lock, tied up 
neatly with black ribbon, and just showing itself over 
the coat collar. It was a strange practice, but custom 
renders us familiar with everything. At last, however, 
Fashion, in one of her capricious moods, issued her 
fiat, and pigtails were curtailed. But some few old 
stagers, lovers of things as they were, and the enemies 
of all innovation, saw revolution in the doom of pig- 
tails, and persevered in wearing them long after they 
had generally disappeared. The pigtail finally seen 

in society in Liverpool dangled on the back of ; 

but, no, no ! never mind his name. He still toddles 
about on 'Change, and might not like to be joked 
about it, even at this distance" of time. Its fate was 
curious. Through evil report and good report he had 
stood by that pigtail as part and parcel of the British 
Constitution, the very Palladium of Magna Charta, 
Habeas Corpus, and the Bill of Rights. But the 
time for a new edition of " The Rape of the Lock " 
arrived. He dined one day with a party of gay 
fellows like himself. The bottle went freely round, 
until, under its influence, our unlucky friend fell fast 
asleep. The opportunity was seized upon. After 
some hours' refreshing slumber he awoke, and 
found himself alone. On the table before him was 
a neat little parcel, directed to him, made up in 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 113 

silvery paper, and tied with a delicate blue ribbon. 
What could it be ? He eagerly opened it, and found, 
II Diavolo ! that it was his pigtail. " Achilles' 
wrath," as sung by Homer, was nothing compared 
with the fury of the wretched man. He stormed, he 
swore, he threatened, but he could never discover 
who had been the operator who had so despoiled 
him, like another Samson, of his pride. Let us 
hope that remorse has severely visited the guilty 
criminal. Its work, however, must have been in- 
wardly, for outwardly he is a hale, hearty, cheerful- 
looking old man, who still carries himself among his 
brother merchants as if he had never perpetrated such 
an enormous atrocity. 

This, we said, was the last of the pigtails seen 
in Liverpool society. But we did meet with another, 
the very Ultimas Romanorum, after a lapse of many 
years, under very peculiar and interesting circum- 
stances. We were walking in Lime-street, when all 
at once we caught sight of a tall, patriarchal, respect- 
ably-dressed man, some three-quarters of a century 
old, with a pigtail. It was like the ghost of the 
past, or a mummy from Egypt, rising suddenly before 
us. The old gentleman, whose pig-tail seemed saucily 
to defy all modern improvements as the works of 
Satan and his emissaries, was, with spectacles on 
nose, reading some document on the wall. Being 
naturally of an inquisitive turn of mind, and especially 
anxious at that moment to find out what still on 
earth could interest a pigtail, we stopped to make 

I 



114 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

the discovery. Ha ! ha ! ha ! It nearly killed us 
with laughter. It was the electioneering address of 
Sir Howard Douglas. No wonder the old man's 
sympathies were excited: it was pigtail studying 
pigtail, Noah holding sweet communion with Methu- 
selah or Tubal Cain. We often marvel within our- 
selves whether that last survivor of the pigtail dynasty 
is yet alive, and whether he believes in steam- ships, 
and railways, and electric telegraphs ; whether indeed 
he believes in the nineteenth century at all, or in 
anything except Sir Howard Douglas and pigtails. 

Hair-powder, which also used generally to be worn 
in those days, went out of fashion with pigtails. 
It was in allusion to this practice that the old song 
laughably asked, 

"And what are bachelors made of? 

Powder and puff, 

And such like stuff, 
Such are bachelors made of — 

Made of! 
Such are bachelors made of." 

Even ladies wore hair-powder. The last, within our 
memory, so adorned, was Mrs. Bridge, the mother 
of Mr. James Oakes Bridge, who lived in St. Anne- 
street, and a fine, stately, venerable lady of the old 
school she was. 

A terrible time was it for hair-dressers, who then 
carried on a thriving business, when pigtails and 
hair-powder were abolished at one fell swoop. It 
was in reality to them like the repeal of the Navigation 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 115 

laws, in idea, to the ship-owners, or free-trade to the 
farmers. We were amusingly reminded of it only a 
few weeks since. Being on our travels, with rather 
a wilderness of hair upon our head, we turned into 
a barber's shop, in a small town through which a 
railway, lately opened, runs. The barber had a 
melancholy look, and seemed to be borne down by 
some secret sorrow, to which he gave utterance from 
time to time in the most dreadful groans. At length 
he found a voice, and rather sobbed than said, "Oh sir, 
these railways will be the ruin of the country ! " Did 
our ears deceive us? Or was the barber really gone 
mad? "We were silent, but, we suppose, looked 
unutterable things, for he continued, "Yes, sir, before 
this line was opened, I shaved twenty post-boys a day 
from the White Hart, and now if I shave one in a 
week I am in high luck." Unhappy shaver, to be thus 
shaved by the march of improvement ! And inconsist- 
ent George Hudson ! thou talkest of the vested rights 
of shipowners and landlords, and yet didst thou ever 
stay thy ruthless hand and project a line the less that 
country post-boys might flourish, and country barbers 
live by shaving their superfluous beards ? ! most 
close shaver thyself, not to make compensation to thy 
shavers thus thrown out of bread and beards by thy 
countless innovations ! 

But it is time that we should finish this chapter, and 
we will do so with copying an anecdote touching hair 
powder, which greatly struck us as we lately read it in 
the History of Hungary. Some great measure was 



116 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

under discussion in the diet of that country, when 
Count Szechenyi appeared in the Chamber of Magnates, 
on the 28th of October, 1844, in splendid uniform, his 
breast covered with stars and ribbons of the various 
orders to which he belonged. " It is now thirty-three 
years," said he, " and eleven days since I was sent to 
the camp of Marshal Blucher. I arrived at the dawn 
of day, and at the entrance of the tent found a soldier 
occupied in powdering his hair before a looking-glass. 
I was rather surprised, but, on passing on a little fur- 
ther, I found a page engaged in the same way. At last 
I reached the tent of the old general himself, and found 
him, like the others, powdering and dressing his hair 
also. ' General,' said I, ' I should have thought this 
was the time to put powder in the cannon, and not in the 
hair.' ' We hope,' was the reply, ' to celebrate a grand 
fete to-day, and we must, therefore, appear in our best 
costume.' On that day the battle of Liepsic .was 
fought. For a similar reason, gentlemen, I appear 
here to-day, dressed in this singular manner. I believe 
that we are to-day about to perform one of the brightest 
acts in the history of our nation." The address was 
received with loud acclamations. But hair-powder and 
gunpowder have, we believe, long since been divorced, 
even in the camp. It was inconvenient. It was found, 
as touching the former, that, on a hot day, it was 
impossible " to keep your powder dry." 



117 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



Whethee we consider the magnificence of its estate, 
the amount of its revenue, or the extent of its influence, 
the Liverpool Corporation might ever be compared to a 
German principality put into commission. We have, 
in a former chapter, alluded briefly to its state and 
condition in those old days, when 

" All went merry as a marriage bell," 

and no Municipal Reform Bill ever loomed in the dis- 
tance. But we feel that we must say something more 
about such an important body. The old Liverpool 
self-elected Corporation was always looked up to and 
spoken of with respect from one end of the country to 
the other. It was, indeed, considered to be a kind of 
model Corporation by all others, and quoted, and 
emulated, and imitated on all occasions and in all 
directions. 

We have said that it was self-elected. We must add 
that it was most exclusive in its character and forma- 
tion. " We don't shave gentlemen in your line," says 
the hair-dresser in Nicholas Nickleby to the coal-heaver. 
" Why ? " retorted the other, " I see you a-shaving of a 
baker, when I was a-looking through the winder last 



118 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

week." "It's necessary to draw the line somewheres, 
my fine feller," replied the principal. "We draw 
the line there. We can't go beyond bakers." And 
so it was with the old Corporation. They drew 
a line in the admission of select recruits into their 
bod}-, and strictly kept to it. All tradesmen and shop- 
keepers, and everything retail, were carefully excluded, 
and classified in the non-presentable " coal-heavers' 
schedule." But they were not only exclusive in the 
fashion which has been indicated, but in other ways 
also. Their line of distinction was more than a separa- 
tion of class from class. They were not only a self- 
elected body, but a family party, and carefully guarded 
the introduction of too many " outsiders," if we may 
so speak, of their own rank and order in society. They 
would, indeed, occasionally admit a stranger, without 
any ties of relationship to recommend him. But this 
was only done at long intervals, and just to save appear- 
ances. Thus, such men as Mr. Leyland, Mr. Lake, 
and Mr. Thomas Case were, from time to time, in- 
troduced into the old Corporation. But extreme care 
was taken that the new blood should never be admitted 
in too large a current. For the same reason, that of 
saving appearances, our ancient municipals, although 
ultra Tory in their politics, occasionally opened the 
door of the Council Chamber to a very select Whig. 
Nothing, however, was gained for the public by this 
quasi-liberality of conduct. The Whigs, so admitted, 
generally fell into the ways of the company into which 
they had been admitted ; and it was remarked, that in 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 119 

every distribution of patronage they were at least as 
hearty and zealous jobbers as the most inveterate 
Tories. This may have been said enviously. But, 
at all events, it was said. We are, recollect, writing 
history, not censure. Human nature is of one colour 
under every shade of politics. " Caesar and Pompey 
very much like, Massa ; 'specially Pompey." 

We have said that, with the exception of the oc- 
casional Whig admitted for the sake of appearances, 
or to be ornamental, the politics of the old Corporators 
tended to extreme Toryism. They were, nevertheless, 
divided into two parties, as cordially hating each other 
as the rival factions in Jerusalem. As their opinions 
on all great public matters exactly coincided, the apple 
of discord between them must have been the immense 
patronage at their disposal, and which was too often 
considered as the heir-loom of the Corporate families. 
On one side were the Hollingsheads, Drinkwaters, 
Harpers, etc. On the other, and, at that time, and for 
years after, the stronger interest, were arrayed the 
Cases, Aspinalls, Clarkes, Branckers, etc. The latter 
party owed much of their preponderance to the in- 
fluence of the great John Foster of that day, who, 
although not a member of the Council himself, 
possessed a strange power over its decisions and judg- 
ments, and brought to his friends the aid of as much 
common sense and as strong an intellect as ever were 
possessed by any individual. But it is not to be 
supposed that the members of the former Corporation 
limited their attention and zeal to the battle for patron- 



120 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

age and place. Let us do them justice. Considering 
the immensity of the trust committed to their charge, 
the fact that there was no direct responsibility to check, 
control, or guide them, and the sleepy sort of animal 
which public opinion, now so vigilant and wakeful, so 
open-eared, open-eyed, and loud-tongued, was in those 
old stagnant times, our conviction has always been that 
they performed their duty miraculously well. We are 
neither their accusers nor eulogists. If they were not 
perfect, they were not altogether faulty. They expended 
the town's revenues for the town's good. Their fore- 
sight extended to the future as well as the present. 
They perceived the elements of coming greatness which 
the port of Liverpool possessed, and laid the foundation, 
often in the face of as loud clamour and criticism as 
those days were capable of exciting, of their growth 
and development. Their successors have but walked 
in the path which they had opened, and carried out the 
plans which these Council forefathers had devised. 
In every part of the town may be seen their works and 
creations, carried on under the superintendence of the 
Mr. Foster whom we have mentioned, and of his gifted 
son, too little appreciated amongst us, until he was 
beyond the reach of all human praise and applause. 
On the tablet to Sir Christopher Wren, in St. Paul's, 
London, it is written " Si monumentum quceris, cir- 
cumspice." And, even so, if we are asked to point 
out the ever-abiding epitaph which, from generation to 
generation till the world's last blaze, will uphold the 
memory of our old defunct Corporation, we should 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 121 

answer, "Livekpool." When we are told of their 
extravagance; when we hear of their nepotism; when 
their spirit of exclusion is scoffed at ; when their ultra 
politics are ridiculed ; let us draw a veil over all and 
everything, as we contemplate our docks, our churches, 
our public buildings, and once more exclaim, " Si 
monumentum quceris, circumspice." These speaking 
memorials will remain when all their faults are for- 
gotten ! 

But we said, just now, that the members of the 
old Corporation would, from time to time, for the sake 
of appearances, admit a select Whig or Liberal into 
their number. This reminds us of a good story, 
which was circulated at the time, when it was debated 
among them whether they should or should not elect 
the present Mr. William Earle. " He is a very clever 
fellow," said one of them to a grim old banker, think- 
ing thereby to conciliate his favour and win his support. 
The eulogy had just a contrary effect. " So much 
the worse," replied old money-bags, "we have too 
many clever fellows amongst us already." As nobody 
cried out, "Name, name ! " the list of this multitude, 
this constellation of clever ones, is lost to posterity. 
And, having mentioned this joke against one of the 
old Council, let us add another. One day Prince 
William of Gloucester and his staff of officers were 
dining with a certain member thereof, who treated 
them with the best which his house contained and 
which money could command. When the cloth was 
drawn, his wines, which were excellent, were not only 



122 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

enjoyed., but highly praised. Being a little bit of a 
boaster, he perpetrated a small white fib by saying, 
" Yes ! that port is certainly very fine, but I have 
some better in the cellar." " Let us try it," instantly 
rejoined a saucy young aide-de-camp, amidst the 
laughter of the company at the alderman being 
thus caught in his own trap. On another occasion 
it was said that the presiding genius at a table where 
His Eoyal Highness was a guest, thus encouraged his 
appetite, " Eat away, your Eoyal Highness, there 's 
plenty more in the kitchen." For the honour of 
Liverpool refinement, be it known that it was not 
one of our natives who made this speech, so much 
more hospitable than polite. It was a gentleman 
of an aristocratic family, officially connected with 
the town. But taste was not so fastidious, neither 
was society so conventional, in those days as they 
are now. The most expressive word was the word 
used when it was intended to mean warm sincerity, 
not empty form. 

And what a crowd of the county nobility and the 
gentry were invited to the Corporation banquets in 
those old days. There was the venerable Earl of 
Derby, the grandfather of the present Lord. There 
was likewise the Earl of Sefton, gay, dashing, and 
agreeable. Mr. Bootle Wilbraham and Mr. Bold 
of Bold Hall, then Mr. Patten, were frequent guests 
at the Mayor's table. And there was old Mr. 
Blackburn, who was the county member for so many 
years in those quiet times of Toryism, when the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 123 

squirearchy reigned supreme even in the manufac- 
turing districts. An easy-going man, of very moderate 
abilities, was old Squire Blackburn. He stuck by his 
party, and his party stuck by him. Many a sugar- 
plum of patronage fell into the mouths of his family 
and friends. The Mr. Blundell of Ince, of that day, 
came frequently amongst us, although, generally speak- 
ing, a man of reserved habits, and more given to culti- 
vate his literary tastes than to mix in company. He 
presented one of the Mayors of Liverpool, Mr. John 
Bridge Aspinall, with a portrait of himself, half-length, 
and an admirable likeness. It hung for many years 
in the drawing-room of the gentleman in Duke-street. 
Side by side with it was a splendid painting of Prince 
William of Gloucester, also a gift from His Koyal 
Highness to Mr. Aspinall. Where they are now we 
know not. But, when dotting down the names of 
some of the neighbouring gentry who used to look 
in upon us some forty odd years ago, we must not 
forget to recall honest John Watkins, "the Squire" 
of Ditton. Squire Watkins, as many of our old 
Stagers will recollect, was a Tory, if ever there was 
one in the world. But a noble-souled, true-hearted, 
generous, hospitable man was he withal, as ever lived, 
a kind of Sir Roger de Coverley, from the crown of 
his head to the sole of his foot. And what a house 
he kept ! And how he came out in his especial 
glory on his coursing days, when all the Nimrods 
and Ramrods in the county assembled under his roof, 
and did not resemble a temperance society in the 



124 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

the slightest degree. Poor old Squire Watkins ! 
Some terrible Philistine once planted a hedge, or 
built a wall, we forget which, which trespassed, or 
was supposed to trespass, an inch or two upon his land. 
It was just the sort of trifle for two people in the 
country with nothing to do to quarrel about. The feud, 
or "fun, grew fast and furious." The squire insisted 
upon the removal of the encroachment. His opponent 
refused. Threats followed, defiance succeeded, until, 
one morning, like Napoleon making his swoop upon 
Brussels, John Watkins, Esq., took the field at the 
head of his household troops, the butler, coachman, 
groom, gardener, etc. At last they arrived on the field 
of Waterloo. But the opposing Wellington was already 
there, in position with his followers, himself in front 
with a double-barrelled gun in his hand. Nothing 
daunted, the squire, pointing to the encroaching fence 
which was to be destroyed, cheered on his men to the 
attack, and the " Old Guard " advanced merrily to the 
charge. But they were presently brought to a check. 
" Up Guards ! " shouted the hostile Wellington as they 
approached, while " click " went the cock of his double- 
barrelled gun, as he raised it to his shoulder, 
vehemently swearing at the same time that he would 
shoot the first man who dared to lay hands upon the 
debatable boundary. The assailants wavered. The 
squire shouted to them in vain. Even he himself did 
not like the look of the double-barrelled gun, but, fixing 
upon John, his butler, to be his Marshal Ney, he 
encouraged him to the attack. John, however, feeling 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 125 

that "discretion was the better part of valour, " 
hesitated, when his master again cheered him to the 
fight with this promise of posthumous consolation, 
" Never mind him, John ; if the scoundrel does shoot 
you, we'll have him hanged for it afterwards." "But 
please, master," said John, as wisely as innocently, 
"I'd rather you hanged him first." This was too 
much. There was no help for it. Hugoumont was 
saved. Napoleon and his forces retreated, baffled and 
discomfited, from the field. The squire, peace to his 
memory, fine old fellow, used often to tell this story 
in after years, never failing to revile poor John for his 
cowardice, which lost the day. But we always defended 
John, and turned the laugh against the squire, by gently 
insinuating that there was somebody more interested 
in the quarrel, who was even more prudent than 
prudent John. 



126 



CHAPTER XIX. 



The Church, in the days we are speaking of, was in a 
very torpid and sleepy state, not only in Liverpool, 
but throughout the land. None of the evangelical 
clergy had then appeared in this district, to stimulate 
the pace of the old-fashioned jog-trot High Churchmen. 
Neither had Laudism revived, under its new name of 
Puseyism. Nothing was heard from our pulpits but 
what might have passed muster at Athens, or been 
preached without* offence in the great Mosque of Con- 
stantinople. In fact, "Extract of Blair " was the dose 
administered, Sunday after Sunday, by drowsy teachers 
to drowsy congregations. If it did no harm, it did no 
good. We do not here speak of James Blair, Com- 
missary of Virginia, President of William and Mary 
College, &c, whose works, little known, contain a 
mine of theological wealth. We allude to Dr. Hugh 
Blair, whose sermons, so celebrated in his day and 
long after, are really, when analysed, nothing better 
than a string of cold moral precepts, mixed up with a 
few gaudy flowers culled from the garden of rhetoric. 
We have often wondered at the praise beyond measure 
which Dr. Johnson again and again bestowed upon 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 127 

Blair's diluted slip-slop and namby-pamby trifles. He 
not only spoke of them in the highest terms on every 
occasion, but thus, in his strange way, once exclaimed, 
"I love Blair's sermons. Though the dog is a Scotch- 
man, and a Presbyterian, and everything he should not 
be, I was the first to praise them. Such was my 
candour." At all events, as we have already stated, 
" Extract of Blair " was the pulpit panacea universally 
prescribed at the beginning of the nineteenth century. 
And we are bound to add, as far as our youthful recol- 
lections go, that the majority of the Liverpool clergy 
in those days were rather below than above the average 
of mediocrity. 

There were some among them, however, whose 
names are worth recalling. One of the best preachers 
in those old times was the incumbent of St. Stephen's, 
Byrom-street, the Kev. G. H. Piercy, a fine fellow in 
every way. He is still alive at his living of Chaddesley, 
in Worcestershire, to which he was presented through 
the influence of old Queen Charlotte. His mother-in- 
law, the wife of the Kev. Mr. Sharp, then vicar of 
Childwall, had been about the court in some capacity 
or other, and it was the good fashion of her Majesty 
never to forget her friends. Mr. Piercy must have 
reached the age of the patriarchs at least. Then there 
was the Bev. Mr. Milner, of St. Catherine's Church, 
Temple-street, which was removed in making some 
improvements in that part of the town. Poor Mr. 
Milner ! When not washing his hands, he employed 
each hour of the day in running after the hour before, 



128 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

and was always losing ground in the race. A kind- 
hearted man he was, and a pleasant one when you could 
catch him. He was known as "the late Mr. Milner." 
The Rev. Mr. Vause preached in those days at Christ 
Church. He was considered to be a brilliant star in 
the pulpit, and was indeed a first-rate scholar, a fellow- 
student with the illustrious Canning, who made many 
and strong efforts to reclaim him from a course of life 
which unhappily contradicted and marred all his 
Sunday teachings. But, even with regard to his 
sermons, effective and telling as they were made by 
style, voice and manner, it was found, after his death, 
when they passed into other hands, that they were 
chiefly Blair, with others copied from the popular 
writers of the day. A clergymen, who was to preach 
before the Archbishop of York, had the choice of them 
for the occasion. He picked out the one which seemed 
to him to be the most spicy and telling, and, confident 
at the time that it was the production of Vause himself, 
delivered it with mighty emphasis and stunning effect. 
When it was over, the Archbishop blandly smiled, 
praised it exceedingly, and then, to the horror and 
astonishment of the preacher, whispered, "I always 

liked 's sermons, " naming the author from whom 

it was taken. Never did poor jackdaw feel so much 
pain at being divested of his borrowed plumage. 

One of the ablest men, although a mumbling kind 
of preacher, in those times, was the Rev. Mr. Kidd, 
who was for so many years one of the curates of 
Liverpool, a kind of Church serf, who could never rise 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 129 

to be a Church ruler. He had many kind friends, and 
at many a table which we could mention a plate and 
knife and fork were always laid for the poor curate. 
But he ever appeared to us to be an oppressed and 
depressed man, with a weight upon his spirits which 
nothing could shake off. There was indeed a romance 
attached to his history, although he was perhaps the 
most unromantic looking person that the human eye 
ever rested upon. He was a brilliant scholar, when a 
student at Brasenose College, Oxford, and his hopes and 
ambition naturally aspired to a fellowship. It was sup- 
posed to be within his grasp. But how wide is the dis- 
tance between the cup and the lip ! The principal was 
unpopular, and some of his doings were severely flogged 
in a satirical poem which appeared without a name. 
Its cleverness led him to suspect Mr. Kidd, and, with- 
out looking for any other proof of the authorship, he 
became his sworn enemy, and used all his influence, 
and only too successfully, to turn the election against 
him. Some love affair, we have also heard, but this 
was, it may be, only " one of the tales of our grand- 
father," went wrong with him about the same time. 
So that, altogether, he was thrown upon the world a 
sad and downcast man, with blighted hopes and blasted 
expectations from his very youth, and settled down 
into the curacy of Liverpool, where he saw more than 
one generation of inferior men, inferior in scholarship, 
in learning, in wit, in all and everything, promoted over 
his head. A pleasant, agreeable, quaint and original 
companion was poor Kidd amongst his intimates, but 

K 



130 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

tongue-tied in a large party. He saw through the 
hollowness of the world, and despised it. There was 
nohody like him for unmasking a sham, and reducing 
a pretender to his real and proper dimensions. And 
then his chuckling laugh when he had accomplished 
such a feat, and impaled the human cockchafer upon 
the point of his sarcasm ! And how bitterly he would 
allude to his curate's poverty, as, smacking his lips 
over a glass of old port at some friend's table, and he 
did not dislike his glass of port, he would tell us that 
his own domestic allowance of the same was " to smell 
at the cork on a week-day, and to take a single glass 
to support him through his duties on a Sunday." 
Poor fellow ! Once upon a time, and such godsends 
did not often fall to his portion, he had married a 
couple among the higher orders, and received for it a 
bank-note which perfectly dazzled him. Then came 
the marriage breakfast, then the marriage dinner. He 
was a guest at both, and perhaps took his share of the 
good things which were stirring. His way home was 
through the Haymarket. Another gentleman, whose 
path was in the same direction, hearing a great noise, 
came up and found our friend fighting furiously for 
his fee with a lamp-post, and exclaiming, as he struck 
it with his stick, " You want to rob me of it, you 
scoundrel, do you ? But come on, we '11 see ! " He was 
a relation of the celebrated Dr. Kidd, who wrote one of 
the BrKgewater treatises, and who lately died at Oxford 
full of years and honours. 

Another well-known clergyman in those days was 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 131 

the Bev. Mr. Moss, who was afterwards vicar of Walton 
for so many years. His share of "the drum ecclesiastic" 
was decidedly the drum stick. But, although a very 
moderate performer in the pulpit, he had a very good 
standing in society, and was very much liked in his 
own "set." Not over witty himself, never was man 
the cause of so much wit in others, and often at his 
own expense. He was known in his own circle as 
" Old England," because " he expected every man to do 
his duty;" that is, he never met a brother clergyman by 
any chance without seizing upon him, and asking him 
if he could do his duty on the next Sunday. In 
allusion to his convivial qualities and bad preaching, 
somebody once said of him that " he was better in the 
bottle than in the wood." This gave him such dread- 
ful offence that he positively consulted his lawyer on 
the subject of prosecuting the impious blasphemer for 
a libel. The answer to his enquiry was a hearty laugh 
on the part of the solicitor himself, with an intimation 
that he would be laughed out of court also, amidst a 
shower of jokes about the poet's description of the 
Oxonians of that day, 

" Steeped in old prejudice and older port," 

and be poked with all sorts of fun about canting, 
recanting, and decanting. The decanter triumphed, 
although it was a strong allusion to the original 
offending joke, and the idea of a prosecution was 
abandoned. 
Mr. Moss had an intense horror of all sorts of 



132 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

innovations, and, in the case of the first railway, that 
between Manchester and Liverpool, this feeling was 
greatly increased by the fact of his being a large share- 
holder in a certain canal which might be affected by its 
success. He was in a fever of excitement, and almost 
raved whenever the subject was mentioned in company. 
He long clung to the notion that the accomplishment of 
the line was impossible and fabulous. He magnified 
every difficulty, dwelt upon every obstacle, and con- 
cluded every harangue on the question with the 
triumphant exclamation, "But, never mind, they can- 
not do it; Chat Moss will stop it; Chat Moss will 
stop it." This was said in allusion to that great boggy 
waste, so called, which for so long a time did really 
battle with and baffle the skill and efforts of the 
engineers. On one occasion, when our friend had 
been holding forth in his usual strain, and finished 
with a look of defiance at all around him, " Chat Moss 
will stop it" Mr. Thomas Crowther, who was one of 
the party, quietly answered, "Depend upon it, your 
chat, Moss, will not stop it." This to us is the purest 
essence of wit, the very ne plus ultraism of it. 

" The force of humour can no further go." 

Like Pitt's description of what a battle should be, 
"it is sharp, short, and decisive." It is brilliant, 
pointed, telling. 

There is a joke of almost a similar kind in Boswell's 
Lifi °f Johnson. " I told him " (writes the former) 
"of one of Mr. Burke's playful sallies upon Dean 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 133 

Marley : ' I don't like the Deanery of Ferns, it sounds 
so like a barren title.' ' Dr. Heath should have it/ 
said I. Johnson laughed, and, condescending to 
trifle in the same mode of conceit, suggested Dr. 
Moss." But the wit here is overdone and wire- 
drawn, until it becomes forced, heavy, and exhausted. 
Crowther's extempore retort heats the laboured efforts 
of Burke, Boswell, and Johnson, all put together, as 
it bursts forth, sparkling, glittering, dazzling, on the 
spur of the moment. " Depend upon it, your chat, 
Moss, will not stop it." We treasure a good thing 
when we hear it, and love to embalm it. Mr. Crowther, 
the author of this unrivalled witticism, had a twinkle 
about the eye which seemed to say for him, that he 
had many " a shot in the locker," of equal calibre 
and ready for action. We did not know much of him 
ourselves, but have always been told that his stores 
of humour and wit were as rich as they were inex- 
haustible. The specimen, or, as men say in Liverpool, 
the sample, which we have given amply justifies such 
an opinion. 

We must not forget to mention, in connection with 
the Bey. Gr. H. Piercy, that of the sons of Liverpool 
worthies under his care in 1804, and who thumbed 
their lexicons with redoubled zeal when promised a 
holiday to witness the marching and counter-marching 
of the "brave army" before his Koyal Highness 
Prince William of Gloucester, in Mosslake fields or 
Bank-hall Sands, (where are these now ?) the following, 
although in the " sere and yellow leaf," are still fit for 



134 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

active service: — W. C. Kitson, E. Molyneux, Thomas 
Brandreth, F. Haywood, K. W. Preston, and James 
Boardman. The Kev. James Aspinall, rector of 
Althorpe, Lincolnshire, was also long a favourite pupil 
of the reverend patriarch. 



135 



CHAPTER XX. 



The two rectors of those old days were the Rev. Samuel 
Renshaw and the Rev. R. H. Roughsedge. They were 
both men past the meridian of life, at the earliest 
period to which our recollection extends. There was 
a tradition among the old ladies, that Rector Renshaw 
in his younger days had been a popular and sparkling 
preacher of " simples culled " from " the flowery empire " 
of Blair. We only knew him as a venerable -looking 
old gentleman, with a sharp eye, a particularly benevo- 
lent countenance, and a kind word for everybody. 
Rector Roughsedge also was a mild, amiable, good- 
hearted man of the old school, with much more of the 
innocence of the dove than of the wisdom of the ser- 
pent in his composition. He was, in fact, the most 
guileless and unsophisticated person we ever met with. 
His studies must have been of books. Certainly they 
had not extended to the human volume. He was 
utterly ignorant of the world and the world's ways, 
thereby strongly reminding us of the great navigator, 
of whom it was said that "he had been round the 
world, but never in it." As a proof of this we may 
mention, that once, when the Bishop of Chester, the 



136 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

present Bishop of London, was his guest, he invited 
Alexandre, the ventriloquist, to meet him at breakfast. 
There surely never was a worse assortment than this 
in any cargo of Yankee "notions." Alexandre, who 
had a fair share of modest assurance, was quite at 
home, and made great efforts to draw the bishop 
into conversation. The latter, however, rather recoiled 
from his advances, and was very monosyllabic in his 
answers. Nothing daunted, however, the ventriloquist 
rattled away quite at his ease, and, amongst other 
things, assured his lordship, that " he had had the 
honour of being introduced to several of the episcopacy ; 
that, in fact, he had received from more than one of 
them copies of sermons which they had published, and 
which he had kept and valued amongst his greatest 
treasures ; " and then finished up with the expression 
of a wish that he would himself favour him with a 
similar memento. This was too much, and prompt 
and tart and cutting was the bishop's answer — "Yes; 
I will write one on purpose ; it shall be on Modesty ! " 
Yulcan never forged such a thunderbolt as that for 
Jupiter Tonans himself. It completely floored Alex- 
andre, overwhelming the chaplain and scorching the 
rector's wig in its way. 

And having mentioned the name of Bishop" Bloom- 
field, let us give another specimen of his ability to 
check any improper intrusion upon his dignity and 
position. He was a very young man when first he 
came into this diocese, and some of the older clergy 
rather presumed upon this. There were at that time 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEAES SINCE. 137 

many among them who would cross the country, and 
take a fiye-barred gate as if it were that fortieth article 
of which Theodore Hook spoke to the Vice-chancellor 
of Oxford. The bishop one day met a number of these 
black-coated Nimrods. The scene was not far from 
Manchester. After dinner, some of the old incorri- 
gibles persevered for a long time, with marvellously 
bad taste, in talking of their dogs and horses, and 
nothing else. His lordship looked grave, but was silent. 
At last one of them, directing his conversation imme- 
diately to him, began to tell him a long story about a 
famous horse which he owned, and " which he had 
lately ridden sixty miles on the North road without 
drawing bit." It was the bishop's turn now, and down 
came his sledge hammer with all the force of a steam- 
engine. " Ah," he said, with the most cutting indif- 
ference, " I recollect hearing of the same feat being 
once accomplished before, and, by a strange coinci- 
dence, on the North road, too : it was Turpin, the 
higlncayman" "Warner's long range was nothing to 
this. It was a regular stunner. The reverend fox- 
hunter had never met with such a rasper before. He 
was fairly run to earth, and did not break cover again 
that night, you may be sure. The idea of a Church 
dignitary, for such he was, having had Turpin for his 
college tutor, was a view of the case which he had never 
studied before, and old Tally-ho left the table fully 
convinced that his spiritual superior was more than his 
match even at the lex Tally-ho-nis. The same annoy- 



138 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

ance was never attempted again. The lesson had its 
effect upon more than one. 

But to go back to Rector Roughsedge ; he also once 
perpetrated a joke, and it was so dreadfully heavy that 
it deserves recording for its exceeding badness. He 
was a man of strong opinions, prejudices some people 
would call them. He did not like the evangelical 
clergy, who so greatly increased in number towards the 
latter end of his reign in this locality, and, at their 
expense, he perpetrated the single jest of eighty years. 
He was at Bangor, on a tour, and, at the same inn 
there was a large party of the rival section of the 
Church. They were in the room exactly over the one 
in which he was sitting, and, as they moved about with 
rather heavy tread, the old man suddenly exclaimed, 
u Sure the gentlemen must be walking on their heads ! " 
We do not say much for this ponderous effort ourselves. 
But it was, we are informed, duly reported at the 
Clerical Club, and entered among their memorabilia. 
The curates especially relished it as a great joke, a very 
gem of brilliancy, and would persist in laughing at and 
repeating it for months and months in all companies, 
parties and meetings ; and their mirth, it was observed, 
was always particularly jocund and boisterous when 
the rector himself was present. But who grudges them 
the enjoyment of their laugh ? A poor curate's life is 
Buch a career of toil and hardship, that anything which 
can enliven him, even a rector's jest, should be most 
welcome. We, at all events, are not iron-hearted 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 139 

enough to envy their few enjoyments. But it was real 
happiness to hear the old rector and his old wife talk 
of their son in India. He was their pride, their boast, 
their treasure, their idol. We never met with him; but 
from all that we have heard of him, we believe that 
there was no exaggeration of praise even in the cha- 
racter which his fond parents drew of him. Everybody 
endorsed it as fact, not eulogy. But the church of 
churches in that day was St. George's. How we used 
to rush down to Castle-street, about a quarter of an 
hour before the service began, to see the mayor and 
his train march to church! We were never tired of 
watching that procession. It was super-royal in our 
estimation. Sunday after Sunday we would gaze at it 
with never- wearying and still-increasing admiration. 
Such cloaks they wore ! There never were such cloaks. 
And such cocked-hats ! No other cocked-hats ever 
seemed to be like them. And one man carried a huge 
sword, which, in our nursery, we verily believed to have 
been the identical one taken by David from Goliath, 
although there was a counter tradition, which asserted 
that Bichard the First had won it from a Pagan knight 
in single combat when in Palestine. We now rather 
ascribe a "Brummagem" origin to it. And there were 
other men who carried maces, and various kinds of 
paraphernalia, which, if not useful, were supposed to 
be vastly ornamental and magnificent. The mayor 
himself held what was called a white wand in his hand, 
which was intended, we opine, to impress the public 
with the notion that his lordship, for the time 



140 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

being, was a bit of a conjurer. But even we little 
boys knew better than that. Heaven help those 
dear, darling, innocent old mayors ! They knew 
how to fish up the green fat out of a turtle -mug, 
and had a tolerably correct idea touching the taste 
of turbot and lobster sauce; but as to doing any- 
thing in the conjuring line, they were as guiltless 
on that head as any babe unborn. They would 
never have run any chance of being burnt for 
witches. But, nevertheless, it was a very imposing 
spectacle to see them tramping along Castle-street 
every Sunday morning to St. George's Church. Our 
impression always was, that the very Gauls who paid 
such small respect to the Boman senate would have 
trembled with awe at such a sight. Such was our 
enthusiasm, that, as often as we witnessed it, we still, 
on our return home, assembled all our brothers and 
sisters, and, arraying ourselves in table-cloths and 
great-coats, with the shovel, tongs and poker carried 
before us as our official insignia, performed a solemn 
march up stairs and down stairs, from garret to cellar, 
until interrupted by some older member of the family, 
who looked upon our imitations to be as sinful as 
sacrilege or "flat blasphemy" itself. 

And what a congregation there used to be at St. 
George's in those days ! It was a regular cram. Every 
corporator had a pew there, and felt himself in duty 
bound to attend out of respect to the mayor. And 
how gay and smart were the bonnets and dresses of 
their wives and daughters. There was one seat in 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 141 

particular which always divided our attention with the 
service. It was constantly full of children, who were 
not at all more unruly than the rest of us. But their 
mother, who was of a very Christian and pious turn 
of mind, seemed to he of a different opinion ; for when 
she thought nohody was watching her (but we were 
always watching her), what sly opportunities she would 
take of pulling their hair, treading on their toes, and 
pinching them in all directions. Pinching was the 
favourite mode of dealing with them. How we used 
to speculate during the sermon upon the consequences 
of her practices ! We wondered that they did not cry 
out. And then we wondered more whether hair- 
pulling, toe-treading, and pinching were apostolical 
receipts for training young christians. And then we 
thought within ourselves that they would be quite bald 
in so many years at the rate of so many hairs pulled 
out every Sunday ; and then we used to long to know 
how many square inches of their skin had turned black 
and blue under the pinching process, and to speculate 
whether their fond mother boxed their ears, or set them 
a chapter to learn, or kept them without their dinner 
when she. got them home, and found that we had 
grinned them out of all memory of the text as we 
telegraphed them out of our pew to let them know that 
we were quietly enjoying the fun in their' s. 

And what a muster of carriages there always was at 
St. George's, to take the corporators and fashionables 
home after service. How the coachmen squared their 
elbows, and how the horses pranced, and how the foot- 



142 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

men banged-to the doors ! And then, when "all right" 
was heard, how they dashed off, to the right and left, 
some taking one turn and some the other, down narrow 
old Castle-ditch, and so into narrow old Lord-street, 
down which they flew "like mad," until the profane 
vulgar called these exhibitions " the Liverpool Sunday 
races ! " And what a crowd of dandies and exquisites 
always assembled on the Athenaeum steps, not to 
discuss the sermon, we fear, but to criticise the 
equipages as they rattled by, and, when they were gone, 
to pass judgment upon the walkers, their dress, appear- 
ance, etc. The ladies, we recollect, invariably pro- 
nounced this phalanx of quizzers to be an accumulation 
of " sad dogs " and " insufferable puppies ; " but it 
always struck our young mind that it was very odd, if 
they really thought so, that they did not avoid them by 
ordering their carriages to be driven, or themselves 
walking, some other way. If the moth flies into the 
the candle more than once, we must presume that it 
does not dislike the operation. 



143 



CHAPTER XXI. 



We spoke, in the last chapter, of St. George's as the 
church which the mayor and corporation always 
attended. Once, when Mr. Jonas Bold was Mayor, 
it happened that Prince William of Gloucester was 
present. By a strange coincidence, which somewhat 
disturbed the seriousness of the congregation, the 
preacher for the day took for his text, " Behold, a 
greater than Jonas is here." Both Mayor and Prince, 
we believe, as well as the discerning public, fancied 
that there was something more than chance in the 
selection of so very telling and apposite a text. It 
reminds us of the Cambridge clergyman, who, when 
Pitt, Chancellor of the Exchequer, while yet almost a 
boy, attended the University Church, preached from 
the words, " There is a lad here which hath five barley 
loaves and two small fishes ; but what are they among 
so many ? " 

Some years since the Duke of Wellington, attended 
by a single aide-de-camp, walked into a Church at 
Cheltenham. Here there could have been no design ; 
he was totally unexpected. But, when the text was 



1U LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

announced, out came the startling words, "Now, 
Naaman, captain of the host of the King of Syria, 
was a great man with his master, and honourable, 
because by him the Lord had given deliverance unto 
Syria : he was also a mighty man in valour, but he was 
a leper." This chance shot evidently told. A grim 
smile seemed fo$ a moment to gather upon the features 
of the "Iron Duke," as he cast an intelligent look at 
his companion, who telegraphed him in return with an 
equally knowing glance. They were both particularly 
attentive to the sermon, in which there were many hard 
hits, which might have been made to order, as they 
seemed to be as applicable to Duke Arthur as to Duke 
Naaman. 

But it is time that we should speak of the clergy- 
men attached to St. George's Church, in the days we 
are writing of. They were rather a superior lot. 
Archdeacon Brooks was one of them, and already 
looked upon as a very promising young man. The 
Bev. T. Blundell was another. He used to bring out 
occasionally, in preaching, very odd things in a very 
odd manner, and sometimes very original things in a 
very original manner. The Bev. Jas. Hamer was 
another of the preachers at St. George's, and very 
admirable sermons he gave. He was a sedate, grave, 
serious looking man, a fair scholar, and had a good 
place in society. He was a fellow of Corpus Christi 
College, Oxford, and, according to the universal 
anticipation, would have been its next head, had he 
lived. But he was cut off in the prime of his days, 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 145 

when all the toils and difficulties of his career were 
surmounted, and, to human judgment, 

" The world was all before Mm, where to choose 
His place of rest." 

But here we must make room on our canvas for the 
portrait, if we can draw it, of one of the most remark- 
able men whom Liverpool has ever produced. We speak 
of Dr. Frodsham Hodgson, who, in our young days, was 
also among the St. George's preachers. His manner 
was pompous, and he had a catch in his voice which 
may still be traced among Oxford men of the old 
school, some having adopted it from admiration, and 
others having mimicked it until they could not get rid 
of it. Never was the truism, that " a prophet is not a 
prophet in his own country," more wonderfully illus- 
trated than in the case of Dr. Hodgson. Here, in 
Liverpool, he was neither known, valued, nor appreci- 
ated. He visited chiefly, when amongst us, with the 
corporation, and those who met him came away with 
the impression that they had spent their time with a 
very agreeable and pleasant person, a jovial companion, 
with great conversational powers, and, for a book-worm, 
wonderfully at home on every subject started and 
spoken of on every occasion. This was the opinion 
generally formed of him, this and nothing more. Our 
municipal magnificos, while condescendingly patronising 
and listening to their chaplain, . never seemed for a 
moment to feel that Jupiter himself was among them 
in disguise. 



146 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

But let us change the scene to the University of 
Oxford. Ha ! who conies here ? " Eichard's himself 
again." " The king 's once more at home." It is the 
principal of Brasenose College, the same Dr. Hodgson 
whom we lately saw in Liverpool; but, Quantum 
mutatus ab illo Hectore, he is here another and a 
different man. He is in the scene of his glory, his 
triumphs, and his celebrity, among those who honour, 
respect, and look up to him, and who are proud to be 
the followers of such a leader. He stood out from 
among them as one of nature's true nobility. Magnifi- 
cent in his manner and bearing, princely in his tastes, 
and habits, and notions, and ideas, a scholar in every 
sense of the word, thoroughly acquainted with, at home 
in, every branch of literature, and familiar with all the 
mysteries and workings of the human volume, he was 
exactly the person to perform a great part wherever his 
lot of life had been cast. Accordingly he was a 
potentate even among the self-elated potentates of the 
University. His will was law. His sic volo sic jubeo 
was supreme. He ruled without a rival near the 
throne. From time to time murmurs were heard 
against the autocrat, and the whispering tokens of a 
coming storm were frequently perceived. But mind 
triumphed over matter. He always contrived to crush 
the incipient rebellion, and to rise, like another 
Antaeus, refreshed and strengthened from the struggle. 
And we may add here that his ambition was as un- 
bounded as his talents were great and brilliant. The 
force of his genius, the power of his tact, and the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 147 

extent of his influence were never so remarkably 
proved as in the management and clever combinations 
by which, with the help of Tory tools subdued to his 
will, he contrived to return the Whig Lord Grenville, 
as Chancellor of the University of Oxford, against 
Lord Eldon, the most powerful opponent whom it was 
possible for Toryism to have selected for the struggle 
in those days of its supremacy. The time at last 
arrived when Dr. Hodgson was marked for the next 
elevation to the episcopal bench, and he was spoken of 
for either an English bishopric or an Irish arch- 
bishopric. But who can dive into the secrets of 
to-morrow ? At the moment when to his friends and 
family it seemed certain that all their fond hopes and 
anticipations were about to be realised, he was suddenly 
attacked by the fatal illness which brought him to the 
grave in a few days. To the end of his life he retained 
all his influence over the University, and, when he 
departed, it was as if Gulliver had been taken from 
Lilliput, and the Lilliputians left to themselves. 
Nothing soaring above the common place of mediocrity 
has since shown itself among the college heads and 
rulers. When we heard of his death, we exclaimed, 

" He was a man, take him for all in all, 
"We shall not look upon his like again." 

Nor have we since had occasion to recall the ex- 
clamation, either with regard to men in the Church or 
out of the Church. And we have yet a more pleasing 
sight in which to view the character of Dr. Hodgson, 



148 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

namely, as he was seen in the domestic circle. It was 
a positive treat to see him, with all the pomp and pride 
of the outer world thrown off, in the bosom of his 
family. Never was there so kind and affectionate a 
husband, never so fond, and tender, and indulgent a 
father. In his home, surrounded by those whom he 
loved, and who loved him, he seemed to forget at once 
all things beyond, and to leave behind all the aspira- 
tions and longings, pains and pleasures, sweets and 
bitters of ambition. You had thought him, perhaps, 
a cold and calculating competitor in the race of in- 
triguing rivals for promotion. You had watched with 
pleasure his splendid career at college and in the 
University. You had admired him as a scholar, been 
dazzled by his literary attainments, or struck by his 
tact and bearing as a polished and finished courtier, 
a character on which he laid such stress that it was a 
frequent saying with him, that, "in his estimation, 
manner was everything, next to religion." But it was 
in the enjoyment of his home, to him not figuratively, 
but really "home, sweet, home," that you were at once 
startled and delighted by seeing him in the best and 
most amiable point of view. Here the exquisite 
nature of the man was beheld in all its glory, affection- 
ate, gentle, and earnest, with a heart overflowing with 
every kindly feeling and domestic virtue. " The most 
loveable man, perhaps," as some one has written of the 
poet Moore, "that ever lived, judging him in the shade 
of his own home, apart from the artificial glare of 
society." All selfishness was there renounced. His hap- 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 149 

piness was in the happiness of those around, and that 
those moments, stolen from his active and proud 
career, were the sweetest and most delicious of his life 
it was impossible to doubt. He must, like every other 
public man, often and often have been taught the bitter 
truth that " all is not gold that glitters." But, when- 
ever the bubble of popular applause in which he so 
delighted was grasped, only to burst in his hand, 
whenever the seemingly gorgeous gems of ambition 
turned out to be mere trash and tinsel, when they had 
passed from a dream or a hope into realities, he could 
dwell upon his home treasures, which were to him his 
greatest "joys for ever," far more precious to him than 
the world's most approving smiles, and his best and 
truest consolation if ever it frowned upon him. We 
respect and honour the name of Dr. Hodgson, when we 
recollect him as the scholar, the gentleman, and the 
clergyman ; but we love it and fondly dwell upon it 
when we recall his memory as the husband and the 
father. How little was he known and how ill under- 
stood in his native town ! and how few amongst us even 
remember him or his name at all ! And yet Liverpool, 
and she has been a fruitful parent of worthy children, 
never had a son of whom she had more cause to be 
proud than Frodsham Hodgson. We have but feebly 
sketched a character which, we trust, some stronger 
pen will undertake to delineat in all its fair pro- 
portions and colossal dimensions. Until this is done 
there will be a gap in biography which certainly ought 
to be supplied, and the sooner the better. 



150 



CHAPTEK XXII. 



An election was an election, indeed, in those days. 
It was not merely a rush to the hustings for a few 
short hours, and then all over. There was no getting 
the lead by ten o'clock in the morning, and winning at 
once by making a good start. Votes were then taken 
by tallies, or tens, each tally marching to the hustings, 
with a band of music and colours before it, and each 
party bringing up its tally in its regular turn. The 
curiosity, and excitement, and suspense, and anxiety 
were kept up, day after day, until there was a grand 
smash at last on one side or the other ; in other words, 
until "no tally" forthcoming in its turn betrayed 
weakness, and proclaimed that it was U P with some- 
body. An election, then, in those times, was a great 
and solemn affair with our jolly old freemen, who had 
the vote-market all to themselves, no intrusive ten- 
pounders having yet been thrust upon the constituency. 
How well we recollect the hurly-burly of some of those 
old elections. There were two sections of the Tory 
party always in the field, the green, or Tarleton party, 
and the blue, or Gascoigne and " Townside" party. 
But, at a pinch, they always coalesced against the 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 151 

pinks, or Reformers. Among the greens were the 
Drinkwaters, Hollinsheads, Harpers, &c. Foremost 
in the ranks of the blues were the Fosters, Cases, 
Aspinalls, Gregsons, Branckers, Clarkes, Leylands, &c. 
And the pinks also numbered a gallant phalanx to do 
battle for them in every struggle, Earles, Lawrences, 
Croppers, Rathbones, Roscoes, Curries, Harveys, Mathers, 
cum multis aliis. And how Jack Backhouse and Corf, 
the butcher, used to head up the greens on horseback, 
in Castle-street, both they and their horses bedizened 
all over with ribbons of their favourite hue ! And how 
popular old Tarleton was with the fishwomen ! And 
then how the Tories would shout for "Negro slavery, 
and no Popery !" And the Reformers had " Civil and 
Religious Liberty ! " written on their flags. And how 
well we remember one, long before the opening of the 
trade to the East Indies, on which was inscribed, " The 
China trade for ever." This was quite beyond the 
geography of the party who carried it ; for, supposing 
it to be an allusion to a competition between home- 
made crockery and Dresden china, they had, by way of 
illustration, or commentary, hung the flagstaff round 
with all sorts of specimens of plates, and dishes, cups 
and jugs, and so forth. Many a laugh was raised at 
their expense, as they marched about in blessed igno- 
rance of their blunder. 

On one occasion, as if foreshadowing events which 
were to happen half-a-century later, a big loaf or Free 
Trade candidate took the field, to the great delight of 
all the hungry non-electors. It seems but as yesterday 



152 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

when, patriotically braving all the pains and penalties 
attached to such an audacious proceeding, we escaped 
from the nursery to clap our little hands, and set up 
our little shout, as we followed the music and yellow 
banners of the champion of cheapness and plenty to 
his house in Kent-square. His name was Chalmer, 
and he was the father of the venerable, and worthy, 
and clever doctor and town councillor of that name. 
Sir Isaac Coffin, too, once made his appearance here 
just before an election. It was, of course, suspected 
that he had a design upon the borough. If he had, 
the intention died in the egg. No chicken ever was 
hatched out of it. Eichmond, however, instantly fired 
at him with a squib, which open in this unceremonious 
fashion : — 

" Sir Isaac Coffin's come to town, not to please the lasses, 
But to gull the Whigs, a set of stupid asses." 

A good story is told against Sir Isaac on the other 
side of the Atlantic. He once made a bet that he would 
find a given number of gigantic alderman lobsters of 
the weight of thirty pounds each. It happened not to 
be in the lobster season, and the monsters were not 
forthcoming on the appointed day. Sir Isaac, how- 
ever, not liking to lose his money, sent in certain 
depositions to the stakeholders from fishermen on the 
coast, stating that they had frequently met with lobsters 
of the required weight ; to which this pithy answer was 
returned, " Depositions are not lobsters." 

The old freemen of those days were worthy grandsires 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 153 

of their present worthy grandsons. Some of them were 
witty rogues in their generation. One of them, on the 
eve of an election, when in a state of intoxication, asked 
one of the Hope family to give him a five pound note 
for his vote. The demand was indignantly rejected. 
" Then," rejoined the incorrigible fellow, " if you will 
not give it me, lend it me, and you may believe I will 
return it on any day you fix." Mr. Hope shook his 
head with resolute incredulity. " Ah," said the 
offended elector, staggering away, " they may call you 
Hope, but hang me if you have either faith or charity 
in your composition." • 

But we must not pass by, without some remarks, the 
two soldier representatives who so long sat for Liver- 
pool in the House of Commons. General Tarleton was 
a fearless old guerilla of the American war, in which 
his achievements, successful or otherwise, proved him 
to be as brave as the sword he wore, and were more 
like the creations of romance than the realities they 
were. He was open, frank, and free, with many quali- 
ties to recommend him to popular favour, but no more 
fit to represent the mighty interests of Liverpool, even 
in those days, than any child of three years old taken 
out of the street. He had not one point of the statesman 
in his whole character. He was as capriciously selected 
as he was capriciously ejected by his friends. He was 
originally adopted without a single recommendation. 
He was finally repudiated without a fault or failure in 
addition to those which had marked his career from 
the first. "We have heard many things laid to the 



154 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

charge of our old freemen, but they never appeared 
in so bad a light to us as when, at the bidding of their 
employers, or under some other influence, they almost 
to a man turned their backs with freezing indifference 
upon a candidate towards whom, on all previous occa- 
sions, they had affected to feel an enthusiasm amount- 
ing to positive frenzy. Human nature was never 
presented to us in so despicable a point of view. 
Poor old Tarleton. We never felt a sympathy for him 
except when he was thus suddenly victimised by 
popular caprice, his former worshippers flying from 
their idol. And why ? Tell, it not in Gath, if you 
like, but we will tell it in Liverpool ; because the rich 
men of his party had set up another image, and he 
presented himself for their votes in forma pauperis. 
Say not, or we shall laugh at you, that he was rejected 
to make way for the brilliant Canning. Ay, Canning, 
all honour and glory to his memory, was the most 
brilliant of all the brilliant stars that ever shone in 
this lower world of ours. But we never loved bril- 
liancy from our hearts in Liverpool. We have tolerated 
it at times for the sake of other qualities by which it 
has been accompanied, but we were always anxious to 
get rid of it as soon as possible. Liverpool looks upon 
able and clever men as Athens looked upon Aristides. 
Mediocrity suits our temper best. 

But we spoke of General Tarleton's military colleague, 
the Castor to his Pollux, General Gascoigne. " The 
old general," as the latter was familiarly called, was a 
remarkable instance of how little is required to make a 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 155 

legislator. He had all the unfitness of General Tarle- 
ton without his dashing and brilliant exploits as a 
soldier, to veneer and varnish over the preter-pluperfect 
common-place of his character. He was an ignorant 
and illiterate man. This may, perhaps, be ascribed 
to the early age at which he had joined the army. At 
all events, his education must have been more in the 
school of Mrs. Malaprop tjian of Dr. Syntax. His high- 
est attribute was a species of cunning, which sometimes 
did for him what greater talent has failed to do for 
other persons. He was a man of intense selfishness. 
His gratitude was of that peculiar kind which burns 
with a white heat glow for benefits to come, but looks 
with cold and freezing eyes upon favours received. 
He treated his friends as he did his gloves, that is, 
he wore out both, and then cast them from him. He 
constantly forgot his supporters at the last election, to 
coquet with those who, he hoped, might help him at 
the next. But such a game could not be played for 
ever. 

General Tarleton was,, we said, in his summary expul- 
sion from the representation, the victim of ingratitude. 
When General Gascoigne's turn came, he was justly 
punished for his ingratitude towards so many of his 
best friends. He had most industriously earned the 
fate which overtook him. His immediate predecessor 
in the seat for the borough was his brother, B amber 
Gascoigne, of Childwall-hall, whose only daughter and 
heiress married, at a later period, the Marquis of 
Salisbury. Bamber was a man of a very different 



156 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

stamp and calibre from his brother. He was a good 
specimen of the gentleman of the old school, and very 
much superior generally to the country squires of his 
day. His tastes were refined and literary. He was 
a thoroughly educated and well-read person. He was 
at once proud and courteous in his manner and aristo- 
cratic in his bearing. His habits attached him more 
to his library than to the arena of the House of Com- 
mons, and he, consequently, did not kill himself with 
toiling in the cause of his constituents. On some 
occasion, a deputation of our merchants waited upon him 
to remonstrate upon some alleged lack of zeal in their 
behalf. The interview was not a pleasant one. The 
member received the remonstrants with either too little 
humility or too little courtesy. As they grew warmer, 
he became colder and stiffer. The end of the matter 
was that they did not exactly part company in a gale 
of wind, but, while they gave him notice to quit, they 
relented so far that they told him that, out of respect 
to a family which had so long represented the town, 
they would, in depriving him of his seat, transfer it 
to his younger brother, the redoubtable general. It 
was a pity, for he had every quality which the other 
wanted. The thing, however, was done, and for years 
Bamber (xascoigne was a stranger to the town for which 
he had once sat in parliament. He had received a 
blow, an insult he deemed it, which he could never 
forget, although towards the end of his life he seems to 
have forgiven it, and once more, to some small extent, 
had some intercourse with Liverpool society. Mrs. 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 157 

Gascoigne, his wife, however, as excellent and kind- 
hearted a person as ever lived, always took a most 
lively and remarkably fussy interest in our elections. 
She felt that, if her husband could not retain the 
representation of Liverpool, still it was a prize worth 
keeping in the family. It may be that her husband 
thought so too, but he was too proud and impassive 
to show it. 

But let us return to the " Old General." In politics 
he was a Tory, "thorough and thorough." He never 
flinched nor wavered, but followed the banner of his 
party "for better and for worse," through good report 
and evil report, to the close of his career. He was 
once, indeed, dreadfully puzzled when a schism occurred 
amongst the leaders of Toryism. On that occasion 
he wrote a letter, said to be still in existence, to a lead- 
ing friend in Liverpool, in which he thus expressed 

himself: — "Dear , I cannot as yet see my way 

clearly, or make out which section will prevail, and 
obtain the government. Until that is decided, I shall 
vote according to my conscience'' It is refreshing to 
discover even these brief traces of a conscience in a 
hack politician of the old school. We have already 
observed that the education of the general had not 
been too carefully cultivated. He once, in the House 
of Commons, gave a remarkable proof of his deficiency, 
to the great delight of the young and waggish portion 
of our legislators. In some debate, touching the 
extension of political privileges to the dissenters, one 
of the orators had dwelt eloquently upon the beauty 



158 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

and loveliness of harmony and union between different 
sects. Gascoigne rose to do a bit of bigotry for his 
friends, but, being most singular in his notions of the 
plural of the word used, thus commenced his reply, " I 
hate to hear all this cant about the harmony and 
union which ought to exist between different sexes" 
He got no further. A regular "Hurrah" of laughter 
burst from every corner of the House. On it went 
gathering strength as it advanced, explosion after 
explosion, thunderclap after thunderclap, in the wildest 
confusion. The younger members shouted with glee 
and merriment. Grave old statesmen held their 
sides, and were nearly thrown into fits in the vain 
endeavour to repress their mirth. Mr. Speaker 
himself, after an idle attempt to check the row, led 
the chorus until the very mace danced upon the 
table, and every hair of his wig stood on end in 
horror at the profanation. Never was such a scene 
enacted before or since in the House of Commons ; and 
what gave the greatest zest to the whole thing was, 
that the General seemed to be unconsciously innocent 
and ignorant that he was the cause of the unusual 
commotion which was going on. It was the greatest 
performance of his life. In parting with him, we may 
as well add here, that, from a quality which we have 
before ascribed to him, he was called, his name being 
Isaac, " Cunning Isaac," both by friends and foes. 

In finishing the chapter, we would remark that 
subscriptions for electioneering expenses were raised 
in those times after a fashion which, we trust and 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 159 

believe, does not prevail at the present day. The 
figure written in the list was understood to be the price 
of the patronage to be received in return. There was 
a regular scale. This was corruption in its most 
unblushing and unscrupulous form. 



160 



CHAPTER XXin. 

Our shops frequented by the fashionables were "few 
and far between" in those old times. "We had not 
then reached the bustling age of competition, colossal 
plate-glass windows, and "selling off under prime cost;" 
and so, as the Irishman said, making our fortunes by 
the amount of business transacted. One shop greatly 
patronised by the ladies was Wilson's, near the old 
dock, that is, what was the old dock, but which was 
most unwisely filled up. The Custom-house now stands 
where the Jack Park, and the Mary, and the Lovely 
Nancy once rested on the waters after achieving their 
homeward voyage, and poked their bowsprits into the 
windows of the opposite houses, which were incon- 
veniently near. Wilson dealt in all sorts of ladies' 
wares, clothing, linen, table-cloths, &c. 

At the bottom of Duke -street there was a kind of 
ornamental or nick-nack shop, kept by a Miss Gregson, 
who had a monopoly of that line of business. At the 
corner of King-street and Old Pool-lane, now South 
Castle-street, there was a famous haberdashery and 
silk shop, presided over by a most respectable person, 
Mr. Orton. His private residence was in St. Anne- 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 161 

street, opposite to Mr. Boardman, and next door to 
Mr. Huddleston, whose son, John, lived there in 1790, 
and lives there still in 1852. There was another in 
Castle-street, kept by Mr. Bernard or Brennand, almost 
as celebrated. We remember this one more particu- 
larly, as several of the young men who stood behind 
the counter subsequently embarked as merchants in 
different lines of business, and were some of them 
eminently successful. One of them died not very long 
ago, and is understood to have left an almost princely 
fortune behind him. 

Danson was then, and for many a long year after- 
wards, our Magnus Apollo in the hair-dressing line. 
Never was there such a good-natured, polite, kind 
soul as Danson. He was the most talkative of hair- 
cutters, and they are generally a talkative race. What 
demand he used to be in on the eve of a ball or a great 
party in those days, when so much stress was laid upon 
curls and wiggery ! Many a good story was told at his 
expense; but gentlemen of his profession have ever 
been so martyred. He was said to be of a very 
inquisitive turn of mind, and much given to fathoming 
the why and the wherefore of every novelty and mystery 
which came in his way. This propensity once led him 
into an awkward scrape. Shower-baths were jpot as 
general and everywhere affairs then as they are now. 
Our Apollo, once summoned to put some lady patroness 
into curls, had, upon his arrival, to wait some little 
time in the ante-room. A tall, oblong, curtained sort 
of .box met his eye. What could it be ? He cautiously 

M 



162 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

opened the door, peeped and peeped into it, but could 
make nothing of it. A string dangled from above. 
And what was that for ? Our philosopher, bent upon 
experiment, took it into his hand ; pulled it ; and fiz — 
souse — splash ! he was not exactly caught like a rat in 
a trap, but down came Niagara upon his devoted head, 
as quick as lightning, and as loud as thunder. The 
victim screamed ; while in, to enjoy the sport, rushed 
the lady, and the lady's maid, and the lady's husband, 
and Prim, the butler, and John, the footman, and Jane, 
the housemaid, and Molly, the cook, and Sally, the 
scullion, and the children, and the lap-dog, and there 
was such laughing and such barking as human misfor- 
tune never called forth before. Merry mourners at a 
funeral never equalled them in their uproarious enjoy- 
ment. There had not been a richer scene since 
Falstaff was " carried off in a buck basket," and then, 
as he described it, "thrown into the Thames and 
cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe ; 
think of that, hissing hot, think of that, Master Brook." 
It was enough to give a man hydrophobia for life. 

Our old stagers must also recollect the Liverpool 
Hunt of those days, famous, far and wide, for its good 
riders, good horses, and good dogs. It was a glorious 
sight to the lovers of the sport to see them turn out 
when 

" A southerly wind and a cloudy sky 
Proclaimed it a hunting morn." 

Mr. Haywood, who lived in St. Anne -street, was a 
leading Nimrod among them. It was a treat to have 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 163 

a walk through his stahles. And there was Mr. 
Joseph M'Viccar, with his slight, elegant, and compact 
figure, who was second to no man in crossing the 
country. Nor must we forget another of them, Peter 
Carter. Peter was an original in his way. He loved 
a good horse, and always rode one, and knew how to do 
it. When George the Fourth, then Prince of Wales, 
visited Liverpool, Peter had a gray horse, of which he 
was very fond and very proud. It might have been the 
very nag of which it was written, 

" But the horse of all horses that rivalled the day 
Was the squire's Neck or Nothing, and that was a gray." 

We rather think, if our memory does not play us fast 
and loose, that Carter was a member of the Liverpool 
Light Horse, which formed the escort of his royal 
highness from Knowsley to the town. At all events, 
the prince saw the horse, and was much struck with it. 
The price was asked. A hundred guineas was the 
answer. It was to be a bargain. A few days afterwards 
a royal groom made his appearance at Peter's stable. 
He had come for the horse. Now it so happened that 
there was a general impression that the prince's credit 
with his banker was not very extensive at that time. 
Peter was awake to this. 

" Where 's your money ? 
I 've forgot," etc. 

The groom, as we said before, had come, but the 
hundred guineas were not forthcoming. With some 
people the wish of royalty is said to be a command, but 



164 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

nothing less than an order upon the bank would satisfy 
Peter Carter. No other " Open Sesame " would unlock 
his stable door. We will not assert that our old 
acquaintance was familiar with the axiom which teaches 
that "there is no royal road to mathematics; " but he 
was sagacious enough to feel that there was no royal 
way in horse dealing. " A bird in the hand is worth 
two in the bush." He had possession of the horse ; 
he might never get the money. It was, therefore, to 
use a vulgar phrase, "No go with him ; " that is, he 
would not let the horse go. The groom took his leave, 
greatly astonished and disgusted, and nothing more 
was ever heard of the matter. And all that we can say 
of it is, that Peter was no courtier, but a sensible man 
of business, while the gray continued to adorn the 
Liverpool, instead of the Koyal, Hunt. 

And then there was Abraham Lowe, queer, quaint, 
odd, original, eccentric, funny, unequalled Abraham 
Lowe, the huntsman to the pack. How well we 
recollect him ! When we were a boy in buttons, that 
dress which ladies' pages now usurp and monopolise, 
we had a taste for haunting and strolling about in the 
quiet lanes in the neighbourhood of Childwall. We 
used to fish in some of the pits in that quarter, that is, 
we threw in our line and hook, and watched them by 
the hour. But the result was always, like a bad 
banker's account, " No effects." Probably there were 
no fish in our favourite ponds. We have often thought 
so since. But " hark back " to Abraham Lowe ! How 
we did reverence and respect him ! And how we would 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 165 

listen to his peculiar stones, told in his own peculiar 
way ! We liked and honoured everything at Childwall. 
We had a strong regard for that fine old fellow, Mr. 
Clarke, of Stand-house. We rather looked up to the 
vicar, Mr. Sharpe. We stood in some sort of awe of 
Bamher Gascoigne, of the Hall, with his proud and 
grave hearing. It was our pleasure to watch the 
members of the Childwall Club, at their afternoon 
sports, with bow and arrow. It was our delight, when 
our pockets could afford it, to devour the exquisite pies 
which they made at the inn near the church. But the 
vicar and the squire, Mr. Clarke, the club, and even the 
pies, all paled into nothingness when compared with 
Abraham Lowe. We used to wonder whether Nelson 
and Julius Caesar could be at all like him. His horse 
always seemed to be the best horse in the world, and 
his whip the nicest whip, a little greasy or so, but that 
looked knowing. And with what especial reverence his 
hounds regarded him ! They seemed to know and feel 
that there was but one Abraham Lowe in the world, 
and that he was their huntsman, and that they were 
his hounds. And how he would top the fences and 
gates ! Nothing could stop him ! And what a voice 
he had when he shouted " Tally ho ! " or gave the 
"Hark! "when a hare was up before the dogs. And 
who so acquainted with, every art, and trick, and dodge 
of his craft ! How he always hit upon the right spot 
for affording the- best sport ! And who like him for 
recovering a lost, or keeping the hounds up to a cold, 
scent ? Poor Abraham Lowe ! It seems but yesterday 



166 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

that he stood before us with his tall, wiry figure; all 
sinew and bone, not a superfluous ounce of flesh about 
him. What a treasure of a character he would have 
been to Scott, or Dickens, or Thackeray ! Eeality is 
more wonderful than fiction. These word-painters never 
delineate anything equal to Abraham Lowe. Poor 
Abraham ! he was run to earth himself at last, and we 
fear that, in his declining years, the world did not smile 
upon him as it did at first. Long after the time of which 
we have been speaking, we have seen him occasionally 
creeping about the streets of Liverpool with his limbs 
stiffer than they were of yore, his old top-boots terribly 
worn and patched, and his old red coat awfully stained 
and soiled. We always had a passing word with him, 
for the sake of " auld lang syne." He never seemed 
to be downhearted, but maintained his independent 
character to the end of his days. There are, we trust, 
other old stagers left who will join me in saying, 
" Peace to the memory of old Abraham Lowe."* 

And talking of hunters, we were, in those days, 

* We copy with much pleasure the following note, which 
appeared in the Albion, of the 2nd August, 3862: — " Old 
Abraham Lowe. — A Subscriber says, 'The writer of the in- 
teresting papers upon Liverpool a Few Years Since has fallen 
into an error, which I wish to correct. ' Old Abraham Lowe, 
the huntsman,' did not end his days in poverty, but enjoyed a 
small annuity, which was purchased for himself and wife for 
their joint lives, by subscription among those who had enjoyed 
his services for so many years. This fund was, I believe, 
under the care of the Messrs. Fletcher, of Allerton, by whose 
kindness and attention the latter days of the veteran were well 
protected.' " 



LIVEEPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 167 

occasionally visited by Nimrods of another sort, of the 
very race of the Centaurs themselves. We speak of the 
Cheshire squires of the old times, before railways were 
thought of, and when Macadam was a theorist. A 
Cheshire squire was then a remarkable peculiarity of 
the " old-fashioned English gentleman." He was 
proud of his family, of his house, of his grounds, of 
his horses, of his dogs, and of everything belonging to 
him. But he was especially proud of his county, and 
his county was especially fond of him. He seldom 
passed beyond its borders, except when a fox led the 
hounds over them. He was constant in his attendance 
at the Hoo-green Club, where the conversation, not 
dazzlingly intellectual, generally ran upon proud 
Cheshire, and its right to be called proud Cheshire, 
with an occasional episode upon horses, dogs, the crops, 
the weather, and "the next meet." A long frost in 
the winter was a terrible interruption to the comforts 
and habits of these gentlemen. At such times, they 
would, although not often, get as far as Liverpool, to 
lay in a stock of wine and so forth. You might always 
know them. The Cheshire squire, when perambulating 
our streets in the old times, wore a low crowned hat, 
a cut-away green coat, a stripy sort of waistcoat, buck- 
skins, and top boots, looking very like what, in these 
days, is vulgarly called " a regular swell." There were 
some curious characters, very original, spicy, and 
eccentric among them. How well we recollect old Sir 
Peter Warburton. He was for many years the master 
of the Cheshire Hunt. For some reason or other there 



168 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

was not much love lost between him and the people of 
Knutsford. One day, when the hounds were at fault, 
a sudden " Tally ho ! " was heard from a distant hill, 
"Who 's that," said the baronet, "A Knutsford man," 
answered the huntsman, at the same moment a favour- 
ite dog gave tongue, and led off the pack in another 
direction. " Hark to Jowler ! hark ! hark ! " shouted 
Sir Peter, adding with a most uncomplimentary em- 
phasis, " I 'd rather believe that dog than any man in 
Knutsford ! " 

Sir Harry Mainwaring was another of these an- 
tediluvian worthies and wonders. He took the 
direction of the hounds after the death of Sir Peter. 
He was a hard rider, and loved his glass of port after 
the fatigues of the day. At one time his constitution 
was supposed to be somewhat shaken by these com- 
bined labours of love, and his medical adviser was 
called in. " Sir," said the doctor, " you are overtaxing 
your strength in every way. You should go out with the 
hounds one day less each week ; and you must reduce 
your allowance of wine. You are destroying the 
coats of your stomach." " Then, hang me, doctor, 
if I do not fight it out in my waistcoat" said the 
quaint, eccentric old baronet. And truly medical 
science was baffled in this instance; for, instead of 
following the advice of the physician, he added another 
to his hunting days per week, and doubled his portion 
of wine, laughed at the doctor, and grew fat and strong. 
And let us add another story about Sir Harry. It 
speaks for his heart, and deserves to be told. He called 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 169 

at Hoo-green one day to return a bad five pound note 
which he had received from the innkeeper at his last 
visit. "I hope," he said, "that it will be no loss to 
you, and that you know from whom you received it ? " 
" Oh yes ! Sir Harry, it 's all right ; I took it from 

Mr. ," he answered, naming a poor curate in 

the neighbourhood. They were standing by the fire, 
and Sir Harry had still the note in his hand. In an 
instant it was torn to fragments and in the flames, 
while he said, " Poor fellow ! I can stand the loss of it 
better than he can ; and see that you don't make him 
uncomfortable by telling him anything about it. He 
might feel uneasy at being in any way obliged to me ; " 
and in another moment he was on horseback and 
galloping down the lane. Honour to the memory of 
this brave old baronet ! In this one act, so beautifully 
done, there was a combination of pure benevolence and 
true delicacy of feeling which could not possibly be 
surpassed. It could not have been done more kindly ; 
it could not have been done more gracefully. The heart 
of the wild huntsman was in its right place. 



170 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



Travelling was both a difficult and dangerous oper- 
ation in former days. We do not know when a direct 
communication by coach between Liverpool and London 
was first established ; but we have been told that some 
sort of stage was started to Warrington and Manchester 
in the year 1767. We have indeed read in an old 
Liverpool Chronicle, January 21st, 1768, that John 
Stonehewer, a driver of the said stage, had broken his 
thigh by a fall from the box, a very likely accident in 
those old-fashioned days of rough stone pavements. 
Many of our readers must recollect with what persever- 
ing tenacity the shaking old road between Liverpool 
and Prescot was maintained as part and parcel of the 
British constitution, to the great loss and damage of our 
more modern coach proprietors, whose vehicles were more 
tried and injured by the eight miles of paving stones 
between these two towns than by all the rest of the jour- 
ney to the metropolis. The surveyors stood by the paving 
stones to the last. Liverpool always adhered to the 
old ways, however rough they might be. Macadam, 
" the Colossus of roads," as some wit called him, was 
an innovator ; what right had he to make improvements 
which would militate against the trade of coach-builders 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 171 

and menders ? Macadam ! What a short reign was 

his? 

" Come like shadows ; so depart !" 

Hardly had he grasped his sceptre firmly in his 
hand, and persuaded the people to mend their ways, 
when another and a mightier magician waved his wand, 
and all was changed. George Stephenson and railways 
hurst upon us, and Macadam's meteor flight was 
brought to a sudden close. The fast man gave way to 
the faster. 

The first coach which we can ourselves recollect travel- 
ling by was of a very long shape, and moved at a very slow 
pace. Its destination was Birmingham, at which we 
ultimately, after many delays and dangers, managed to 
arrive. It had many "odoriferous names," as Mrs. 
Malaprop would say, among which "the cheap and 
nasty" was the most prominent and usual. The 
coachman was a fat man, with a low-crowned hat, and 
a large nosegay stuck in his button-hole, the very man, 
we should say, who sat for the picture of old Mr. 
Weller in Pickivick. What business he had to transact 
on the road! He seemed to be the universal agent 
for the universal affairs of all mankind, between town 
and town, and village and village. And what stoppages, 
not only at public-houses, but " here, there and every- 
where," had the miserable passengers consequently to 
undergo ! And what universal flirtations he used to 
carry on with the universal womankind who dwelt by 
the wayside ! He appeared to have reached high pres- 
sure or breach-of-promise point with some inmate of 



172 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

every cottage on the road. And then, when at last we 
reached Birmingham, into what universal fleadom we 
found that we had plunged when we went to bed ! 
We have eschewed sleeping at Birmingham ever since. 
A Birmingham bed is a perfect "Cannibal Isle," with 
a more carnivorous population than can be met with 
in any part of the globe. There is even less danger of 
being devoured in New Zealand itself. 

But a new era sprung up in the coaching business. 
The "Bang-up" was started for Birmingham, and the 
"Umpire" for London. Those were splendid convey- 
ances compared with their slow moving predecessors, 
combining, as they did, speed, safety, regularity and com- 
fort. They were literally the timekeepers for the several 
towns and villages through which they passed. They 
started to a moment, arrived at each stage to a moment, 
and reached their final destination to a moment. The 
regularity of the dial could not have been greater. 
"We have heard of the man who boasted that his clock 
regulated the sun, and truly the old Umpire and Bang- 
up seemed to regulate the clock. But " where are 
they now?" An echo answers, "Where?" Enter, 
as we said before, George Stephenson, and exit Bre- 
therton. Eailways came in and coaches went out. 
Sic transit gloria mundi. We are all for speed now. 
The march of improvement first became a run, then a 
gallop, and now it has increased into a flight, beating 
wings and the wind. But, nevertheless, it was 
pleasant travelling in those old days. "All right," 
said the guard ; smack went the whip; " off she goes ! " 



LIVEBPOOL A FEW YEABS SINCE. 173 

What a team ! How the bits of blood do their work ! 
Even the experienced hands of the veteran Jehu can 
hardly tame their fire and check their speed. And now 
the horn blows, we dash into the market-place of some 
country town, to the delight of the congregated idlers 
and gazers of the place. What a bustle among the 
grooms and stable boys. Parcels are handed up and 
down ; the smoking horses are unharnessed ; fresh ones 
put to, all in less time than it takes to tell it. Off 
again ! We sweep at speed past the village green, 
dogs barking, pigs squealing, geese hissing, children 
shouting, men huzzaing, women smiling. Through 
the winding pleasant lanes we go, with their lovely 
hedgerows on either side, the spire in the distance, 
the mansion in the park, the glorious old trees, the 
noble woods, the delicious lakes, the sparkling streams, 
altogether a landscape of sweetness -and beauty which 
no country but merry England can set before the 
traveller's eye. All this, however, was lost to us 
when the last of the coaches disappeared from the 
road. We now fly, but we do not see. We are, as it 
were, shot forth from station to station at a speed 
becoming the spirit of the age. But one consequence 
of all this is, that the rising generation know nothing 
of the old high-ways and by-ways of their country, its 
many beauties, its shady lanes, its lovely nooks and 
corners, the sudden turns in our old lines of road 
which used unexpectedly to open to us the most 
charming prospect, and then as suddenly to hide it, 
only to reveal to us some other vision of beauty on the 



174 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

fair face of nature spread before us. These were 
exquisite treats to us old travellers. We miss them, 
but we are not regretting. We like to keep up with 
the pace of the age. 

And what early hours our grandfathers and grand- 
mothers used to keep ! What an anarchical, chaotical, 
daring, radical innovator, the very ces triplex circum 
pectus man of old Horace, was that bold spirit consi- 
dered to be amongst them who first wrote four o'clock, 
instead of mid-day, upon his " ticket for soup." Then 
came dinner at five, at six, and all hours, until day 
and night changed places, and late hours and indiges- 
tion became triumphant, until wise people learned that 
the best plan was to lay in a stock of solids at lunch, 
and then only trifle and coquet with the grand banquet 
of the evening. 

But how different was the style of visiting in 
those days from what it is now. About five or six 
o'clock you might see the ladies on a visit to the 
house of some one of their number, who was giving 
what was called " a rout " to her female friends. 
We speak advisedly when we say her female friends, 
because it was as difficult to press a gentleman into 
the service on such occasions as to catch an ostrich 
or a real live rhinoceros. A treasure, indeed, was 
the man, and a star, and an idol, who would come 
to these parties. Dr. Gerard, once mayor of Liver- 
pool, was an especial pet with the ladies in St. 
Anne-street for accepting all their invitations to 
these meetings. But what was a rout ? It was a 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 175 

muster of all her female friends, with the rara avis 
of a gentleman, if, like Mrs. Glasse's hare in the 
cookery book, one could be caught by the heroine 
or lady-hostess of the evening. The custom was to 
crowd as many guests as possible into a small 
room, or a large one, as the case might be. As 
the hour for assembling arrived, there was a tre- 
mendous crush of sedan-chairs towards the mansion 
where the party was given. There were several 
stands for these old-fashioned conveyances in New- 
ington- bridge. Those ladies who were not so 
magnificent in their notions, or more moderate in 
their pocket, might be seen making their way to 
the festival with what were called calashes over 
their heads, a reduced form of the covering still 
raised over gigs on a rainy day. When the party, 
or a sufficient number to commence operations, had 
mustered, tea and coffee, rather weak than strong, 
and bread and butter, rather thin than thick, were 
handed round. This ceremony performed, the busi- 
ness of the evening fairly began. The lady of the 
house made up her card tables. Some would sit 
down to whist, of course, in those old days, long, 
antediluvian patriarchal whist, silver threepences the 
stake, and nothing more. Short whist had not then 
come in, with gas, steam railways, and electric tele- 
graphs. But the favourite game with the ladies 
was one called quadrille, or preference. Perhaps 
they liked it better than whist because it was car- 
ried on with more talking. We never could fathom 



176 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

its mysteries. In truth, we never tried to dive 
into them. All that we recollect of it is, that it 
went on with a dreadful clamour about " the pool," 
" basting," " spadille, " " manille, " "ponto, " and 
"basto;" some of which phrases sounded very like 
Egyptian hieroglyphics turned into language, while 
others had a sporting smack about them. Indeed 
we are not certain whether " ponto " is not altogether 
a fiction or confusion of our memory. When the' 
lady of the house began to tire, or fancied that 
her company began to flag or look fatigued over 
their cards, she gave the signal, and in rushed the 
servants with the trays, on which were spread re- 
freshments of a very mild and innocent character. 
Ices were almost unknown in those days. "Weak 
lemonade and weaker negus, with jumbles and ratafia 
cakes, were handed round, and, as they were nibbled 
and sipped at, Mrs. Gildart would vow that she 
was nearly ruined by a run of bad luck, which had 
impoverished her to the amount of two-and-sixpence. 
Dr. Gerard would meekly affirm that he had had 
a most delightful evening. Robert Norris would lay 
his hand upon his heart, and swear that he was 
always at the service of the ladies. Beau Sealy, 
still, we are told, a flourishing and vigorous plant 
somewhere near Bridgewater, would smile one of 
his demure smiles, and say ditto to Norris, ditto 
to Gerard. The hostess was delighted ; the ladies 
were in raptures. Who like Norris? Who like 
Gerard? Who, especially, like Sealy? Sealy being 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 177 

single, as he is single still. By this time all the 
nibbling and sipping were over. The jumbles, and 
cakes, and negus, and lemonade had disappeared. 
The candles were burning low. There was a cry 
for the calashes, and a rush to the sedans, and 
"the feast of reason and the flow of soul" were 
at an end for that evening. And all this happiness, 
recollect, was achieved before nine o'clock. Our 
mothers and grandmothers were unrobing for the 
night before their glasses at the hour at which our 
modern belles are' sitting before theirs, clasping 
the sparkling necklace, arranging the last curl, and 
practising the fatal smile which is to do such 
execution at the Wellington-rooms or some private 
party. We will not attempt to decide upon the 
charms of the ancient and modern Houris ; but the 
hours kept by the former were certainly more rea- 
sonable and seasonable. They had the advantage of 
all "the beauty sleep," which is said to come 
before midnight. 



178 



CHAPTEK XXV. 



Thebe must be many old stagers still surviving 
amongst us who can remember the two managers 
of the Theatre Koyal, Messrs. Knight and Lewis. 
The latter was the father of Mr. Thomas Lewis, 
so well known to the present and last genera- 
tions. In Tyke and similar characters Knight was 
unequalled; while Lewis was the best Mercutio ever 
seen upon the stage. Both were gentlemen, and 
much liked in society. In those days, moreover, 
we had occasional visits from the celebrated John 
Kemble, and his as celebrated sister, Mrs. Siddons, 
when they were " starring it " in the provinces. 
Cooke, likewise, the predecessor of Kean in his 
peculiar line of characters, often appeared upon the 
Liverpool boards. He was not famous for his 
sobriety, and one night, being hissed for his usual 
sin, he rushed forward to the lights, and most 
unceremoniously told the audience that " he was not 
there to be insulted by a set of wretches, every 
brick in whose infernal town was cemented by an 
African's blood ! M This was a home thrust for our 
grandfathers. Fortunately for the offender, Lynch- 




LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 179 

aw was unknown in those times, or he might 
have been the author and hero of a tragedy of 
his own. 

And what glorious singers used to warble in our 
music-hall in those days ! We can just remember 
them, although singing to us, in our babyhood and 
childhood, was very like "wasting their sweetness on 
the desert air." Among them were Incledon, Bartle- 
man, Braham, the semper florens, then in his prime, 
if not ever since and always in his prime; Mrs. 
Billington, and, above all and before all, that won- 
der of the world, Catalani herself. It is something 
to say that we have heard this glorious songstress, 
although then quite unable to appreciate her spirit- 
stirring and soul-melting notes. 

But we forgot to mention Elliston among our list 
of actors : eccentric, clever, well-educated, well-read, 
accomplished, amusing, gentlemanly Elliston. He 
was a prodigious favourite in Liverpool, as much so 
off as on the stage. He was ever a welcome guest 
at the tables of our merchant princes, and, by his 
powers of conversation and amazing fund of infor- 
mation, well repaid all the attentions which he 
received. His range of characters, both in tragedy 
and comedy, was a very extensive one. His perform- 
ance in Three and the Deuce was the perfection 
of acting, and, however often repeated, never failed 
to command the rapturous applause of the theatre- 
going public of Liverpool. A pleasant, agreeable man 
was Elliston, full of fun, abounding in good stories, 



180 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

and with an encyclopaedia of anecd6tes at his com- 
mand. He was somewhat proud of his profession, 
and his profession was proud of him. It lost no- 
thing when represented in his person. 

And now, as we bring our reminiscences to a 
conclusion, we must not omit to chronicle that, 
three times since memory and observation dawned 
within us, we have seen Liverpool overwhelmed by 
grief and sorrow. The first of these occasions was 
when the intelligence arrived of the death of Nelson, 
in achieving the greatest of his great victories, that 
of Trafalgar. As a sailor, and the chief of sailors, he 
was an especial favourite in this seaport town. His 
name was among our "household words." His life, 
a thousand romances in one reality, was the popular 
theme at every table, and round every fire. Wel- 
lington was in the bud then, and all the talk was 
of Nelson, Nelson, nothing but Nelson. When, there- 
fore, the account of his death was received, there was 
not a man in Liverpool but wished with all his 
heart and soul that the battle had been unfought, 
and the victory unwon, and the departed hero yet 
alive and spared to us. It seemed, so intense was 
the feeling of regret, as if the destroying angel had 
again passed through the land, as of old through 
Egypt, and taken one from every house. Grief 
was in every family, lamentation in every circle, 
sorrow on every countenance. These feelings were 
the more intense in Liverpool, inasmuch as the 
intelligence of the hero's death followed close upon 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 181 

a letter from himself, in which he announced his 
intention, as he had never yet seen "the good old 
town, " of paying it a visit, as soon as he had 
" settled his small account " with the French and 
Spanish fleets, which he was then blockading in 
Cadiz. How uncertain are the events of this life ! 
We wept the hero dead, whom we hoped to welcome 
in all the pride and brilliancy of his glory ! The 
envelope containing the letter in which the announce- 
ment alluded to was made, hung for many a long 
year, in a splendid frame, in the dining-room of 
Mr. J. B. Aspinall, of Duke-street. But there are 
hero -worshippers yet surviving, who look up to Nelson 
as their idol. A few months since we entered a 
cottage in a remote district, far from Liverpool. 
Our eye at once settled upon an autograph, framed 
and suspended against the wall. It was Nelson's 
handwriting. The owner of the house entered as 
we were gazing at it, and, seeing how we were 
employed, remarked, " That is the greatest treasure 
I possess. Nothing on earth should separate me 
from it while I live." We looked at the man, who 
seemed not to have a spark of enthusiasm in his 
composition on any other subject; but, upon talking 
to him, we found that his whole soul was wrapped 
up in adoration of the memory of Nelson. We may 
not wonder, then, when such a feeling is found to exist 
now, at the burst of enthusiasm which echoed through 
the nation during the life, and at the death, of the 
popular idol; and what a subscription was raised 

-N- 



182 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

for a monument to the mighty and fallen hero ! 
And what collections were made in all our churches 
for the widows and orphans of the brave defenders 
of their country, who fought and were killed on the 
same day with their glorious chief! But Liverpool 
was never deaf to the call and inspirations of charity. 
To the poet's question, 

" Art thou content to be the modern Tyre, 
Half pedlar and half tyrant pi the world ? " 

she may proudly and truly answer, that she has ever 
reognised and acted upon a loftier and nobler mission. 
Behold her Infirmary, her Blind Asylum, her Dis- 
pensaries, her Hospitals, her institutions of every kind, 
for every form and shape in which woe and want come 
upon mankind ! Freely have her sons of many genera- 
tions received, and freely have they given. They are 
not perfect, but selfishness has never been among 
their faults. 

The second time when Liverpool, within our recollec- 
tion, was struck with distress, but it was altogether of 
another character, was when the great West Indian 
merchant, George Bailey, failed. It was thought at 
the time that nobody could survive the shock. For a 
season all trade was checked, all credit and confidence 
paralysed, and " Who next ? " was the question of every 
day in every mouth, as men walked about doubtingly 
on 'Change, and looked into every new Gazette with 
fear and trembling. 

The third season of consternation to which we have 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 183 

alluded was the actual panic occasioned by the abolition 
of the African slave-trade. Our whole community 
was terror-stricken, when the cause of philanthropy 
triumphed in Parliament, and it was decreed that 
England should no longer play a guilty part in per- 
petrating and perpetuating the horrors of the middle 
passage. When this was proclaimed in Liverpool, 
prophets of woe' and evil sprung up in every street. 
Destruction was about to fall upon us, chaos was to 
come again, an avalanche was to overwhelm us, or an 
earthquake to swallow us up, grass was to grow in the 
area of the Exchange-buildings, our warehouses were 
to moulder into ruins, the streets were to be ploughed 
up, the docks were to become fish-ponds, and our 
mercantile navy, whose keels penetrate to every land, 
and whose white sails woo the breeze on every ocean, 
was to dwindle into a fishing vessel or two, or be 
utterly extinguished. It is true that there were some 
men amongst us of too sanguine or too sagacious a 
spirit to believe in these melancholy predictions. They 
had yet hope or faith in the development of the re- 
sources and energies of their townsmen. Among them 
we must place Mr. Shaw, of Everton, and Mr. Edward 
Houghton, of Great Nelson-street, both large holders 
of land in their respective neighbourhoods, who, in- 
fluenced by an inward and assured conviction that 
Liverpool, cut off from one branch of trade, had yet a 
great future before her, calmly "bided their time," and 
waited for the period when the town would reach them, 
and building land at so much per yard would be the 



184 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 

cry. Above all Mr. Leigh, the solicitor, one of the 
shrewdest men of his day, clung to this notion, and 
boldly speculated upon it. And the result has been, in 
his case, that his son, Mr. John Shaw Leigh, is one of 
the wealthiest, probably the wealthiest, commoner in 
England, able, as some one lately observed in his 
presence, " not only to buy up a duke, but half-a-dozen 
dukes, if they were in the market." 

But these far-seeing men were the exceptions. Euin 
to Liverpool was the general fear of her inhabitants 
upon the abolition of the slave-trade. We wonder 
now, when we look back, that England, and English- 
men, should ever have tolerated and sanctioned the 
nefarious traffic in human flesh. But, while the trade 
existed, it had champions and defenders, not only 
among those who were interested in it, but among 
classes whose blindness can only be attributed to pre- 
judice, the offspring of habit and custom. Thus, 
Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, calmly writes, " The 
wild and dangerous attempt which has been for some 
time persisted in to obtain an act of our Legislature, 
to abolish so very important and necessary a branch of 
commercial interest, must have been crushed at once, 
had not the insignificance of the zealots who vainly 
took the lead in it made the vast body of planters, 
merchants, and others, whose immense properties are 
involved in the trade, reasonably enough suppose that 
there could be no danger. The encouragement which 
the attempt has received excites my wonder and indigna- 
tion, and, though some men of superior abilities have 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 185 

supported it, whether from a love of temporary 
popularity, when prosperous, or a love of general mis- 
chief, when desperate, my opinion is unshaken. To 
abolish a status, which, in all ages, God has sanctioned, 
and man has continued, would not only be robbery to 
an innumerable class of our fellow-subjects, but it 
would be extreme cruelty to the African savages, a 
portion of whom it saves from massacre and intolerable 
bondage in their own country, and introduces into a 
much happier state of life, especially now when their 
passage to the West Indies, and their treatment there, is 
humanely regulated. To abolish this trade would be, to 
1 Shut the gates of mercy on mankind.' 

Whatever may have passed elsewhere concerning it, 
the House of Lords is wise and independent. 

Intaminatis fulget honoribus ; 
Nee sumit aut ponit secures 
Arbitrio popularis aurae." 

Such was the hollow and feeble sophistry of such men 
as Mr. James Boswell, and so fondly and foolishly did 
they talk. 

But not of his opinion was our own noble and 
immortal Boscoe, who devoted a long life to the cause 
of philanthropy, and battled for freedom for the slave 
in every variety of ways, beginning with his poem of 
"Mount Pleasant," and ending with his vote for 
abolition in the House of Commons. But not of his 
opinion were the Wilberforces, and Clarksons, and 
Macaulays, and Croppers, and Bathbones, and Bush- 
tons, and Curries, who fought the great battle of out- 



186 LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINGE. 

raged humanity, first, against mighty and tremendous 
odds, but still struggling on, 

11 Like a thunder-cloud streaming against the wind," 

until the popularis aura, public opinion, pronounced 
in their favour. Then was heard the sic volo, sic jubeo, 
of the British people ; and truly, in this instance, we 
may say it was vox populi, vox Dei. Justice tri- 
umphed. The foulest blot which ever darkened the 
name of England was removed. The slave-trade was 
abolished. And what became of Liverpool ? Were 
the melancholy predictions of her prophets fulfilled ? 
Were her docks turned into fish-ponds? Did the 
mower cut hay, or the reaper gather in his harvest, in 
her deserted streets ? Look round, and see. Compare 
what she was then with what she is now. Then we 
counted her inhabitants by tens, now by hundreds, of 
thousands. Then we talked of her acres, now of her 
miles, of docks. New channels of commerce sprung 
up, new fields of adventure and enterprise were dis- 
covered in the East and the West, and the far off 
South. Steam gave an additional impulse to the 
gigantic energies of trade, the manufacturing districts 
soared to the miraculous point of prosperity which they 
have attained, and Liverpool was the main artery 
through which all the imports and exports of these 
busy hives of industry unceasingly flowed. 

What a different place the town is now from what 
it was when first we old stagers knew it, and were 
acquainted with every face which flitted through its 
streets ! So changed, so altered is it ! Old streets and 



LIVERPOOL A FEW YEARS SINCE. 187 

old buildings gone, and new ones occupying their 
places ; streets where once were fields ; docks where of 
old were strand, and shore, and forts, and baths; 
retired villages swallowed up by the insatiable and still 
growing town ; trees, gardens, meadows, corn land, all 
yielding to the spread of brick and mortar. So mar- 
vellous are all these things, that, as we wander through 
the transmuted scene, losing and finding our way by 
turns, we know not how to describe the feelings which 
swell within us ; 

" We see, we recognise, and almost deem 
The present dubious, or the past a dream ! " 

And what of the future of Liverpool ? Has she reached 
the meridian height of her glory and prosperity ? or 
is she yet in her dawn and beginning? Shall we 
moralise upon the fate of Tyre, of Carthage, of Genoa, 
and Venice, and other marts of commerce in bygone 
days ? It was not for such a purpose that we took up 
our pen. We do not aspire to be prophets. But as 
yet, no cloud is in the sky. All is bright and clear 
above the horizon ; all is fair, promising, hopeful. 
And when we contemplate "the good old town," in 
which we have spent so many happy years, and to 
which we are bound by so many ties of friendship and 
affection, we take leave of her with the prayer of the 
Italian for his country — 

"Esto Perpetua." 






LIVERPOOL : 
PRINTED BY D. MARPLES, LORD STREET AND CABLE STREET. 



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